She is A Beauty, Mate
by KnightInShinningArmor
Summary: The Clexa pirate AU that no one asked for. Clarke escapes an arranged marriage and begins an adventure on the high Caribbean seas, meeting a smoking hot Captain*wink wink* along the way. I also have no super clear idea of where this story is going, but it is my first story so bear with me:3 uPDATE: THIS STORY HAS SO MUCH FLUFF JESUS CHRIST. And the burn is painfully slow! XD
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Of Secrets and Plots

Clarke Griffin did not want to get married.

She especially did not want to get married to a sleaze like _this_ guy; Cage Wallace. He stood in front of her next to his grizzled old father, hands shoved deep into his suit's pockets. His eyes flickered over to hers and matched her scrutinizing glare with a cruel smirk. His gaze made her skin prickle in disgust.

She had ignored her father's conversation with Dante Wallace, Cage's father, at first. Instead she focused mainly on the creepy guy in front of her who looked like he had definitely tortured some people before. Now she tuned in as she felt their discussion drawing to a close.

"…Yes, I believe this marriage will be beneficial to both our families, Mr. Wallace. If you'll follow me to the parlor, we can negotiate the… _terms_ of our agreement." Her father turned to her.

"Clarke? Maybe you and Cage would like to get to know each other while Mr. Wallace and I talk?" His eyes begged for forgiveness as he condemned her to a fate worse than death. She still couldn't wrap her head around it. Her own father, selling her off to the highest bidder for more land, more money, more profit.

"I don't think so." She grinned sweetly. "Thanks for selling me off, Dad." She gestured crudely to all of them and stalked away.

"I'm so sorry, she's a bit high-spirited…" Jake Griffin apologized profusely for her to their slime ball guests. She decided he was no longer her father. She sighed as her steps echoed through the empty halls leading to her room. Honestly, Jake hadn't been her father in years. Ever since they moved from England to here, the Caribbean, he had been obsessed with wealth and power; just like every other asshole plantation owner who couldn't see past the profits on a paper. He had been consumed; and though his love for his daughter was still there, his love of money far outweighed it.

Clarke hoisted her heavy, flashy dress up and began climbing the huge staircase leading up to her "tower"; her room. The exercise felt nice after sitting for so long, making small talk with the random rich men her father often invited over. And it kept her mind off of her impending doom. She finally reached the top and put her hand on her knees, breathing heavily. _I really need to invest in a different mode of transportation than my own feet._ _Maybe a hot, burly butler to carry me everywhere._ She snorted. With the money her father made, it wouldn't be a problem to pay someone to do it.

Winded no longer, she threw open the oak doors leading to her chambers. An window draped with tied-back curtains invited a warm Caribbean breeze into the room, carrying the smell of salt and sand. To the right, a large, fluffy, mahogany-framed queen bed took up a good portion of the room. White gossamer kept the insects away from the clean white sheets and dark blue comforter. To the left, a walk-in closet overflowing with finery was set into the wall, along with an open doorway leading to her bathing chambers.

Clarke stepped into the room and peeled off the expensive, jeweled dress she had been forced to wear to impress those worms. With it lying in a heap on the floor, she felt light as a feather in only her undergarments. She strolled over to the window and propped her elbows on the warm stone, letting the ocean breeze wash over her skin. The moonlight reflecting off the dark ocean soothed her. She inhaled deeply, letting the sound of the waves and rustling palm fronds push thoughts of Cage to the back of her mind. _That is where I belong_. She thought; out on the sea, exploring, learning, doing something other than sitting in a tower like a lonely princess. She rested her head on her arms and sighed mournfully, feeling exactly like said princess.

"Psst…" Clarke squeaked in surprise at the unexpected voice emanating from directly below her, and jerked away from the window. A dark head of messy curls popped up from below the sill. A pearly-white grin stood out in stark contrast to midnight skin.

"Costia!" Clarke hissed. "You scared the shit outta me!" Costia's eyes sparkled with mirth.

"Maybe those sleazy half-wit Wallace boys can clean it up for you." She grinned. Clarke laughed and helped her friend clamber through the window into her room. Costia brushed herself off, then took Clarke by the shoulders and looked at her seriously. "I've come to save you princess." She said in heroic voice.

"I _cannot_ believe you climbed up the side of my house just to talk to me!" Clarke giggled and shoved her friend back playfully. Costia's smile returned. "You didn't meet me in the cave today, so I got a little worried." She admitted.

"Yeah, my father had me entertaining more of his plantation buddies all afternoon." She snorted. "And then…"

"Cage." Costia nodded sullenly. "I heard from some of my friends that work in the house. I'm so sorry, Clarke…" she took her hands in her own.

Clarke felt the tears well up in her eyes. All her anger had dissipated when she saw Costia; now, she felt only hopelessness. "I'm sorry too Cos, that you are forced to work for such an evil man. But even if we are trapped, we are trapped together." She smiled tiredly at the other girl, her heart burdened with sorrow. But Costia's expression made her frown. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

"Mmm…maybe not." Costia mused. Clarke huffed and folded her arms. "Alright, alright." Costia caved to her impatience. She leaned forward and lowered her voice, despite no one being close except Clarke. "My mother, and some of the others enslaved on Cage's plantation….they're planning an escape." She whispered, Clarke's eyes widened, and she gestured for her friend to continue. "I heard them talking late last night. They were saying they were tired of being slaves, tired of being traded like animals and beaten like dogs. And I agree…" Clarke grimaced. She was no stranger to the atrocity of slavery. Even her father, like many other plantation owners, had slaves working his sugar fields; although he treated them like human beings, unlike Cage Wallace. _Her betrothed_. She shuddered at the thought.

"…I said I wanted to join the rebellion. And I want you to come." Clarke jerked her head up as Costia finished speaking. "Me?" Clarke sputtered. "You want me to…leave with you and your family?" she was baffled. Here was this African girl, a slave to the man Clarke was engaged to, someone she had befriended merely by chance, asking her to leave this place and go out in search of something better. Clarke's eyes wandered around her room, taking in the finery and niceties most people had no chance of attaining. Was there something better?

"I care about you Clarke." Costia pleaded, her hands squeezing hers gently. "You have given me so much, just by being my friend, and I don't want you to suffer at the hands of that asswipe!" she exclaimed. Clarke looked her in the eye. "What did your mother say about this? Or did you not tell her?" she demanded.

Costia straightened. "She agrees with me, as do the rest of them." She said firmly. Clarke stood and began pacing her room, in deep thought. Her lack of decent clothing did nothing to help warm her clammy skin as she considered the possibilities.

A thought struck her, and she froze mid-step. Is this what Abby did? She hadn't thought of her mother in years…Abby had left when Clarke was just twelve; disgusted by her money-crazy husband and the slavery he believed in. She had gone quickly in the night; had taken to the high seas in search of something… _something better_. Of course.

Clarke turned to Costia, who looked at her with hopeful eyes. "Are you sure about this?" Clarke whispered. Clarke only risked getting dragged back home to an arranged marriage. The strong African girl in front of her risked everything; beatings, separation from her family, even death. Costia placed a rough, calloused hand on Clarke's smooth shoulder, looking her dead in the eyes.

"I'm sure."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Of Escapes and Captures

Clarke huffed in frustration. After pawing through her closet for what seemed like hours, the only article of clothing remotely suitable for an escape that she had found was a deep blue silk gown, which fitted her form at the chest and waist and flowed to the ground like water around her hips. It had a slit up the thigh _and_ was strapless.

Costia guffawed when Clarke emerged from the closet holding the thing, and the look on the blondes' face only made her laugh harder. "It is _not_ funny." Clarke gritted her teeth. "The only time I wear trousers is when I have my riding lessons! It's not my fault my father only buys the most audacious clothing!" she tossed the dress onto the bed, along with a pair of old, scuffed riding boots that came up to the top of her knee. "You don't have any normal pants in that closet, but you have _those_?" Costia scoffed. "They were my mothers." Clarke fingered the supple black leather affectionately. She had no bad memories of her mother, and felt little resentment, despite her leaving. She now understood it was something Abby had had to do. Just like what Clarke was doing now…

She turned her attention back to the gown. It was a problem, to be sure. It would be difficult to blend in at any public place; and while it was the most manageable dress when it came to running, it was still a dress. Costia was propped against the pillows on her bed like she had been for the past hour, fiddling with one of Clarke's jeweled hairpins. It had only taken her minutes to sprint to her family's hut on the plantation, inform them of Clarke's decision, and come back to help Clarke prepare. Not that she was doing much.

"What about everyone else? Shouldn't you be helping your family? Don't we need supplies, and clothes…and an escape plan?" Clarke looked worriedly at her dark-skinned friend.

Costia tossed the pin aside and hopped off the bed, facing Clarke. "My people have been ready for days now. We have clothes, food, even some weapons. The only thing we are missing is the map from Dante's study, so we know where to go. As for the escape plan…" She trotted toward Clarke's dresser, where she kept all of her art supplies, and stole a pad and pencil from the piles of artwork. She quickly sketched a crude but highly detailed map of both of their plantations and the surrounding beach. Clarke raised her eyebrows in a "not bad" expression and kneeled beside her expectantly.

"Our cave is here." Costia circled a little roughly-draw rock outcropping at the edge of the beach. "That is where we rendezvous. You can climb out your own window, right princess?"

Clarke glared and slapped her halfheartedly on the shoulder. "Ass."

Costia chuckled. She circled a small clearing between the plantations, hidden well by palm fronds and large ferns. "This is where the map handoff will be; one of the maids who work in the kitchens wanted to help us. We decided to trust her because she's helped us get out of a tight spot before." Clarke raised an eyebrow skeptically, but said nothing. "Last thing, this here," she circled a particularly large tuft of ferns behind Clarke's house, "…is where I will hide your supplies. Food, a weapon, and a long shawl to cover all that silk!" she snorted in disdain. "By tomorrow night, my brother Wells will have a rowboat beached by the cave. That is when we will make our escape." Costia declared, setting down the pencil triumphantly. Clarke thought over the plan. Get supplies, get a map, meet up at night and take a rowboat to the nearest port. It seemed solid, if not cliché. Horror struck her at her next thought. "Costia, what if one of us gets caught?" she worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she mulled over the possible disaster. Why it hadn't occurred to her until now, she didn't know.

Costia inhaled deeply through her nose and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Clarke was sure someone had just died. Her chocolate orbs brimmed with unshed tears. But her face hardened into determination as she whispered, "We leave them behind."

"What?!" Clarke exploded. "No! _No way_! If we are gonna go, we're gonna go together. We can't just-"

"Hush." Costia reprimanded gently. "We all agreed. If one gets caught, the others get away. It is what we all wanted. I f you got caught, wouldn't you want me to go on without you?"

Clarke grimaced. "Well, yes, but…" she groaned and put her head in her hands. 'I don't want to lose you Costia; you have been my best friend since I first came here and we met in that cave on the beach. I can't lose the only person I've ever trusted." The two girls hugged each other tightly.

Costia glanced up at the moon disappearing below the sea. "I have to leave Clarke." She stood and paused with one leg out the window. She smiled at Clarke. "Please don't worry. By this time tomorrow, we will all be rowing our way to Port-au-Prince." She winked and disappeared down the side of the large house.

When Costia was gone, Clarke decided it was time for a hot bath, something to relieve a little stress. She stripped and picked out a nightgown (why were the only clothes she had dresses?!) while the porcelain tub filled with steamy water. She slid gingerly into the burning liquid and let out an appreciative sigh as it pulled the tension of the day out of her muscles. As she reclined in luxury, she pondered her next move. Her father may have let her disdain for Cage Wallace slide today, but tomorrow he would not let it go unchecked. She resigned herself to a day of exchanging niceties and sipping tea. Just the thought of spending even a smidgen of time with that festering slug left a sour taste in her mouth. She fished out the flask hidden behind her tub and took a few generous swigs. The rum burned down her throat and left her stomach feeling pleasantly warm.

She ran her thumb over the strange tribal engraving on the front of the flask. She remembered doing the same thing the day she had found it half-buried in the sand, the first time she had walked along the beach by their new house. The etched markings were swirly-ish, and she had captured their detail in her sketchbook many times before. On the bottom were the initials L. W. She felt an odd connection to the stranger who had owned it before her, like it was left there just for Clarke to discover. She was definitely taking it with her when she left this place.

A harsh knocking interrupted her musings. "One minute!" she called, hastily stashing the flask and stumbling out of the now lukewarm water. She wrapped a fluffy white robe around herself and flung open the door.

"Clarke." Jake Griffin stood there, his face stone, disappointment and anger apparent in his eyes. "I thought I asked you to be _cordial_ to our guests today, not flip them off!" he said through clenched teeth. Clarke sighed and went to recline against her pillows, crossing her legs and folding her arms. Her father followed her in. "Clarke….you acted like a child today. You're twenty years old, and I will no longer tolerate that kind of behavior!"

"Dad, Cage is a sleazebag! Everyone on that plantation besides the servants is an asshole-"

"I WILL NOT have you using that kind of language!"

"Who cares?" Clarke bit her tongue to keep herself from spilling the beans about leaving. "You said I'm not a child, I can do what I want!"

"Not as long as you live under my roof, and not as long as I continue to pay for everything you own. Tomorrow, you are going to live with Mr. Wallace. And you are going to _stay_ there, and do the only thing you can do to help keep this family financially comfortable! Do I make myself clear?" his face had gone beet red. Clarke said nothing, and fiddled with her robe ties. He leaned over and kissed her on the head. "I'm sorry Clarke, but it's for our own good." _Our_ own good. Not hers. Her lip curled in disgust for then man who had become the complete opposite of the word _father._ He turned and left her room.

As soon as the door softly shut, Clarke flew off the bed and leaped into action. Panic and a sense of urgency had set in. She snatched up her artist knapsack and shoved her best sketchbooks in, along with a few pencils and pens. She plucked her flask from its hiding place and added it to the sack, along with a small bag of coins and a wristband Costia had made her. She threw two small, scented candles into the bag, thinking they would come in handy if they needed light. Finally, she wriggled under her bed and came out with a short object wrapped tightly in oiled cloth. She gingerly unraveled the folds until a tarnished bronze pistol appeared. She hefted it, and gripped it tightly in her hands, admiring the intricacies that had first captured her attention as a little girl, looking through a shop window just before they had set sail for the West Indies. The one thing she had ever stolen in her life. She remembered plucking it off of its stand in the window and sprinting up the gangplank with it tucked in the folds of her dress. No one had noticed. No one had cared.

Clarke re-wrapped its oilcloths and placed it in her knapsack. She knew how to use it; it had just been so long ago that she'd learned. It was coming with her anyway.

She threw in the gown and riding boots, and then carefully climbed out her window with it slung over her shoulder. "Damn!" Clarke cursed as she picked her way down the stone wall, stubbing her toes multiple times. She stashed the sack in the same spot Costia said her supplies would be, and then climbed back up to her room.

She was ready. Even so, Clarke didn't get a wink of sleep that night, dreading what tomorrow would bring; and how she would go about escaping from Cage's plantation.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Of Sadness and Suffering

Clarke finally drifted into an uneasy sleep in the morning, and jerked awake to a vigorous pounding on her door after a mere hour. She stumbled out of bed, hair messy and bags under her eyes from her restless night. What little sleep she had gotten had done nothing for her tense nerves.

She yanked open the door to reveal a flustered African maid. Her eyes narrowed in anger. Hadn't she told her father multiple times to not have his _slaves_ wait on her? The young maid, thinking Clarke's anger was directed at her, hastily bowed her head. "Please forgive me mistress! Your father told me to wake you-"

"Hush." Clarke pulled her into the room and shut the door. The girl's eyes grew wide with fright. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you" she smiled as she reassured the girl. "I want you to deliver a message to Costia, on the Wallace's plantation. Can you do that?" she asked as she walked over to her dresser and grabbed up a sketchpad. She scribbled a quick note to Costia, detailing her imminent relocation, and handed it to the girl.

"Yes, yes! Of course mistre-"

"And don't call me mistress!" Clarke placed two coins in the girls' palm. "Here, for your trouble. Please keep it secret." The girl stared wide-eyed at the shinning money. She curled her fist around it and looked up at Clarke with confident eyes. "You can count on me." The young woman hid the note and coins in her apron and trotted swiftly to the door. "Oh," she said, turning toward Clarke. "Your father said to get dressed in something nice and come downstairs. Apparently you are going out today." She frowned at Clarke unhappily, aware of her dire circumstances.

Clarke waved her off. "Just get that note delivered please." She then strode to her closet. Wear something nice, huh? Ideally, she wanted to wear something horrid and spit in Cage's face. But looking around at all of the finery specifically tailored for her, she realized it was impossible. And she didn't want anyone to be suspicious of her…."I guess I'll just have to cozy up to those sonofabitches." She muttered as she reached for a gown.

Clarke walked briskly down the stone stairs. She felt a little silly, but she knew she looked stunning and irresistible. Exactly as was planned. She had chosen the colors she looked best in; a deep ocean blue and midnight black. The dress hugged her waist tightly, a corset almost suffocating her; its quarter sleeves were off-shoulder and cinched tightly just after her shoulders and just before her elbows, leaving the soft material free to poof around her bicep. Black lace covered blue satin around her chest and down her waist; at her hips, the dress fell to the floor like a traditional ball gown. More intricate black lace was bunched into roses and swoops around the bottom of the dress, which just brushed the ground. Comfortable black flats and sparkling coal earrings completed the look.

Clarke took a deep breath before entering the parlor. This was all just for show. She had to keep them happy and unsuspecting; she would have to ham it up pretty good. Clarke steeled herself for a day of ass-kissing. _After today, we will be free_! She thought, opening the door.

"Clarke." Her father looked up from his morning paper as she entered. "You look very beautiful." His dull brown eyes regarded her warily. Time to act the part of angsty teenager.

"Dad…" she began. "I'm…sorry." Jake Griffin cocked an eyebrow at her as she pretended to struggle with her words. "About last night. I was overtired, and I wasn't thinking. I know this marriage will be good for us…" her father's face seemed to brighten as each new word was forced out of her mouth. "…and I think that I will come to like Cage more if I try to get to know him." She finished. She bit down hard on her tongue, almost drawing blood, fighting back the scream of frustration that threatened to come out. Her father's expression made her want to scream all the more. "Clarke, that's great!" he beamed, and scraped back his chair to hug her. "I am so glad you've changed your mind. Do you want breakfast? I can have the maids whip something up…"

"No thanks dad, I'm not really hungry." She doubted she would be able to stomach a single grain of rice.

"Alright. We will go over to the Wallace's plantation at once. I'll have the maids pack up everything in your room and take it to your new home." Clarke began to panic internally. She should've gone with the breakfast. Now she had to spend another hour in hell. _Breathe, Clarke._ She told herself. _It will all be over soon._ She plastered a smile on her face, feigning happiness. "Sounds good." Her ass was jealous of all the shit coming out of her mouth.

Jake placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled. "I'm glad you're excited." As soon as his back was turned, her face shifted into a silent snarl. She knotted her hands in her hair, ready to tear it out from the stress, and wriggled a little to let her nerves out. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she followed her father out the oak double-doors of their mansion and into the bright morning sunlight.

Clarke's nerves disappeared instantaneously under the blinding Caribbean sun. It reflected harshly off the white powder sand that covered the whole plantation and beyond; browning hardy skin and burning the more delicate. She followed her father along the sandy road towards their neighboring plantation, taking in the view. The tall sugar cane trembled in the light breeze coming off the ocean, and the heavy green palm fronds seemed to wave happily at her. The sound of ship bells rang out across the sea from the distant port, along with the cries of hundreds of seagulls. Clarke relished the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, and took a moment to slide out of her shoes and wriggle her toes in the sand. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, breathing deeply, losing herself in all that made up the Caribbean. For a moment, she was free.

But harsh reality came crashing back to her far too soon. She heard a man shouting, along with the stinging crack of a whip. Dread made itself a home in her gut as she hastened down the road toward the Wallace plantation gate. The sight that greeted her made her see red.

A young African was cowering among broken sugar cane, arms upraised in a defensive position and covered with angry, bloody lines. He flinched and cried out as the leather slashed into his skin once again, the man holding the whip shouting obscenities at the wounded boy. Clarke lost it.

"Stop!" she screamed as she sprinted toward the scene, brushing past her bewildered father, almost tripping over the hem of her gown in her haste. " _STOP!_ " she stepped in front of the man, shielding the cowering boy, just as the whip came down again. It cracked across the side of her ribcage, slashing through the expensive material of her dress. She gasped as her body registered pure pain, dropping to one knee and holding her hand against the line of fire on her body. "Fuck…" she cursed quietly as blood welled between her fingers. Only a few minutes out of the house and she had practically blown her whole plan out of the water.

She felt a strong arm wrap around her. The boy she had protected hoisted her off the ground, even though his injuries were far more serious than hers. She looked into his eyes and saw a glimmer of recognition. "Clarke…" he whispered. Realization dawned on her; this must be Wells, Costia's brother. She patted his arm in thanks and managed to stand on wobbly legs, despite the pain still surging through her. She was suddenly glad she had decided to forego breakfast, as her stomach heaved at the sight of her own blood.

"What in God's name is going on here?" she lifted her head at the sound of Dante Wallace's voice. Behind him, swaggering out of the house, was Cage. His eyes raked up and down her form, lingering on her fresh wound. A glimmer of sadism lit his eyes, and she shuddered in revulsion at the sight of it. This was going to be a _very_ long day.

Jake hastily ran up and cut Clarke off before she could open her mouth to explain. "Just an accident Mr. Wallace, my daughter stood a little too close and the whip went wide." Clarke opened her mouth to protest, but her father quickly shushed her. "Not a word!" he hissed in her ear. "Make a good impression. I won't tolerate another mistake!" She clenched her teeth in anger, but kept her mouth closed. Protecting another human being from abuse was no mistake.

Clarke resigned herself to watching as Cage took control of the situation. He eyed the slaves gawking at the scene and shouted, 'BACK TO WORK! You!" he pointed towards Wells. "Have someone bandage your arms, then join your people in the fields. And you!" He directed his accusative finger towards the man who had beaten Wells. "Continue on your rounds. If I hear of any more disturbances, it will be _your_ head." The man bowed swiftly and continued on his way. The workers focused on their jobs once more. Clarke looked around for Costia, but she wasn't there.

"Nicely handled, my son." Dante patted his protégée on the shoulder. Clarke resisted the urge to scoff. _Nicely handled, my ass. He is a monster._ Dante then turned to Clarke. "If you will follow us, Miss Griffin, our healers will patch you up inside. I'm sorry for the unfortunate…accident. Cage?" Every fiber of Clarke's being screeched in protest as Cage took her hand and led her into the house. It took everything she had not to rip her hand away and spit in his face. Her skin prickled in fear and disgust at the feel of his hand gripping hers; she felt like she would rather scrape all of her fingernails down a chalkboard at once. There was no way in _hell_ she was going to marry this guy.

The first thing Clarke noticed as she walked into the grand entrance hall was that their house was far nicer than hers. It seemed more like a castle and less like a cozy beachside residence. The oiled hard wood floors were covered in priceless Persian rugs; the stone walls were hung with vivid, intricate tapestries and paintings; in one room they passed, Clarke glimpsed a grand library full of endless rows of books, some brand new and others falling apart at the seams. An amazing smell wafted from the cracked door of another room, and despite Cage's hand still grasping hers and the pain in her side, she smiled. She lived for good food.

Before they ascended the stairs, two serving girls approached Clarke and beckoned her to come with them. "We'll get that wound dressed for you." They chorused together. She cautiously extricated her hand from Cage's grip, who merely looked at her and stuck his hand in his pocket. She resisted the urge to scrub her palm against her dress. She then followed the young women through the door with the amazing scents emanating from it. Of course it was the kitchen.

Clarke started suddenly as a head of dark curls tackled her with a bear hug. "Costia!" She laughed and squeezed her friend tightly, relieved to finally see a friendly face.

"Clarke! What the hell happened to you?" Costia was looking at her wound with horrified eyes.

"It's just a scratch, he barely got me." Clarke muttered. In reality, the whip had cut fairly deep into her. It still felt like someone had burned a line across her ribcage with a hot stick.

"C'mon, sit here." Costia patted a clean wooden table in the corner. "We'll fix you up." They stripped off Clarke's dress and began applying various medicines to the slash on her ribs. While they worked, Clarke took the time to look around. African women and men worked at various stations around the kitchen, chopping and boiling, all working with their heads bent down, eyes focused on their work. Clarke thought this was odd; she began to feel the tension permeating the room. She leaned down to Costia and whispered, "What's going on? These people…they don't seem to like me…" she trailed off. Costia continued wrapping a bandage around Clarke's ribs as she replied, "They don't know what to think of you. You helped my brother. They have never known someone with white skin to be so kind. We aren't treated very well here." Costia sniped off the excess bandage and helped Clarke back into her dress.

"Be careful today, Clarke." She said seriously. "Cage is cunning and Dante is ruthless. Watch your words." Clarke wasn't offended; she knew her friend was looking out for both of them.

"Don't worry Cos. I can handle it. Thank you for being here."

"See you tonight, Clarke." Costia's eyes were worried, but confident.

The two girls who had shown Clarke to the kitchen now led her up the staircase and into the parlor, where her father and the Wallace men waited. The whip slash pained her no more, but her dress was ruined, the tear ragged and the edges stained with blood. Still, she was determined to make a good impression; to convince them beyond a doubt that she was willing to marry Cage.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Of Fear and Anguish

 _Four hours_. She had been sitting in the _same_ room, with the _same_ people, for four fucking hours! She was baffled by the amount of small talk her father and Dante had managed to fit into the extreme length of time. She shifted in her chair again. Clarke glanced through the windows at the shadows left by the sun and noted the time; about four-thirty. Her legs had gone numb three hours ago. She wanted to throttle everyone in this room, including herself, just for something to do. She glanced over at Cage. Of course, he was staring at her intently, just as he had been for the past _four hours!_ She fidgeted under his gaze, her nerves strained, her body restless yet weary at the same time.

"Clarke, what do you think of that?" her father looked at her happily; he was obviously surprisingly pleased by the docile behavior she had exhibited the past four hours. Clarke had no idea what he was talking about, given the fact that she had been zoned out the past few minutes. But judging by the look on his face, it was apparently a good thing?

"That sounds great, dad." She smiled tiredly at him, finally showing him her weariness. But Dante was the one who noticed.

"Perhaps we should retire to an early dinner." He spoke up. "We can discuss the wedding plans over good food." Clarke's stomach lurched, and the ever-silent Cage offered her a sinister smile, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking: _Hell no. I'd rather sit here and rot._ But despite all of her inner pleas, Dante and her father stood and began to walk out. Cage also stood, offering her his hand. She swallowed hard and placed her hand in his, smiling sweetly. Her other hand, however, was balled into a fist so tight her nails left deep crescents in her palm. He walked her to the dinning room and proffered a chair for her, which she took as graciously as she could. Ever the silent gentleman…it creeped her out more than anything. There was something underneath his outer layers…something _unhinged_. He sat across from her.

"I hope you don't mind if a few of my friends join us?" Dante looked pointedly at Jake.

"Not at all! I would be happy to meet them." Jake replied, smiling nervously. A few men, some with women on their arms, joined them at the table. Clarke fiddled with her dress as they introduced themselves and everyone got to talking. _I guess it's a full house_.

She inhaled deeply as servants began bringing in platters of food; it was the same mouthwatering smell from the kitchen! She practically rubbed her hands together in delight. On the platters there was every sort of food. There was breaded calamari doused in ranch, a large steaming fish with browned meat coated in sweet sauce, buttery lobster legs and shrimp swimming in heaps of hot fettucine alfredo pasta. There was a large bird full of stuffing, slices stacked on slices of honeyed ham, and potato skins bursting with butter, sour cream, and bacon bits. There were huge glass bowls chock full of fresh, glistening fruit; watermelon, grapes, blackberries, cantaloupe, strawberries, and so much more. Another dish had boiled bowtie pasta and cauliflower bunches suffocating in a hot, cheesy sauce. There were fresh breadsticks and a light, crunchy salad, as well as piping bowls of broccoli and cheddar soup.

Clarke's attention was caught by the dish giving off the familiar scent from the kitchen. She immediately realized exactly what it was when she saw it. Chocolate. Such a luxurious condiment, she had only tasted it thrice in her lifetime. Twice when she was small, and once just before her mother left. But this time it was different. There were _three_ little steaming cakes on the platter; one white, one brown, and one almost black. Each smelled like chocolate, but they were obviously different somehow. She decided to forget the main dishes and try the cakes first, taking a small piece from each one.

She raised her fork to her lips and sampled each one as the rest of the guests began digging in with gusto. She immediately noticed that although they looked like cakes, their texture was thicker. The white one was extremely sweet; good in little bites. The brown one was normal chocolate, pure deliciousness. The darker one was bittersweet; she thought it was the best of them all. For some odd reason, she suddenly thought of the initials on her flask. L.W…she wondered if that person had ever tasted such _dark_ chocolate. She shook her head in confusion at the sudden direction her thoughts had taken.

Just as she was raising the fork to her lips once more, a soft, sinister voice spoke her name. She could hear it even over the sound of the other guests chatting loudly.

"Clarke." Her blood froze in her veins. She choked back her fear and a retort immediately jumped through her lips; she could not stop it.

"So, Mr. Silent-All-Day has finally decided to grace us with the sound of his voice. Lovely." _Stupid, stupid, that was really stupid._ She chorused in her mind. He chuckled menacingly.

"I have not had an opportunity so speak to you... _privately_ …all day."

"You call this private?" she gestured to the people surrounding them. And realized they were all wrapped up in their own conversations, paying them no mind. He just smirked at her knowingly. Oh, he was clever. She was about to lose this battle of wits before it even truly began.

He leaned a bit closer to her. "I know you were protecting that _slave_."

"Why would I protect a slave? Your friend with the whip was just clumsy." She scoffed.

"My _friend_ whips those vermin into submission every day. And we pay him well for it. I doubt he would be lax in his duty."

She bristled at the insult to Costia and her family. He was trying to get a rise out of her. "Nobody is perfect." She managed to choke out.

"It's a shame about your dress." He suddenly switched topics, his voice lilting into a slightly friendlier tone.

She shrugged in confusion. "It-it isn't a big deal. I have better ones-"

"How do you like my home? My plantation?" He cut her off.

"It is very beautiful…"

"Do you often walk on the beach, Clarke?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess…" Her gut was blaring out a warning signal to her brain.

"What about caves? Have you ever been down to the sea caves on the shore?"

"Um, a few times…" Her whole body was screaming at her; _WRONG WRONG WRONG._

"Have you ever been on a boat Clarke? Do you know how to navigate the sea?" he whispered fiercely.

"We took a boat here…I-I can read a map…"

"Are you enjoying the food Clarke? How do you like those chocolate brownies?"

"They're really good…" She was so confused. It was like there were fire alarms going off behind her eyes.

"You know Costia made those, right Clarke?" His voice wrapped around her like a snake.

"Really?" she mumbled in surprise.

No.

Oh no.

He sat back in his chair, eyes gleaming with triumph. No, no no no no no…she wasn't supposed to know Costia. Wasn't supposed to be friends with her…wasn't supposed to tell anyone. She felt like her stomach had a rock in it, and it was slowly pulling her down to the floor. How much did Cage know? When had he found out? Yesterday? Weeks ago when Costia's family had first discussed their plans?

Her brain suddenly found its way back. She was overanalyzing this. Cage only knew about Costia, and their friendship. Nothing else. They had kept their plans well hidden. _STOP panicking Clarke!_ She told herself. "I assume you want me to stop socializing with her?" she matched his relaxed, uncaring position.

"No." He smiled evilly, mischievously. Clarke's neck prickled in fear at the curt answer. Suddenly, a hand settled on Clarke's shoulder. She practically leaped from her chair, every nerve a live wire.

"Easy, Clarke." Her father's eyes were wide with surprise. "Dinner is over. Come along, it is nearly evening." Dante approached them, and Cage walked around the table to stand next to his father.

"It has all been arranged." Dante proclaimed to Clarke. "You and Cage will be married in a day's time. The servants are already making preparations." He smiled at Clarke reassuringly. She felt dizzy. "I understand your father wished for you to stay here tonight; I'll have my maids escort you to your chambers so you can wash up. I think we should all retire to bed." He proclaimed.

Jake placed a kiss on her head, whispering "Sleep well". Cage disappeared, and the guests and servants trickled out. Dante bid her good night, and two maids escorted her upstairs. She shooed them away after they reached her room, insisting she could get ready for bed herself. Once they were gone she shut the door and leaned against it, listening as their retreating footsteps echoed down the stairs. She drew in a deep breath as the sound faded. Sleep was the furthest thing from her mind; she could feel the adrenaline burning through her veins like a river of lava. It was time to escape.

She didn't bother to look around the room that was not hers, and never would be. She was about to get the hell outta there anyway. She tore off her dress and kicked away her shoes, left in only her wraps and shorts. There were multiple windows around the room; she went over to one and looked out. She could see her own plantation in the distance. She trotted over to the other and did the same. It faced out, towards the beach and the sea beyond. She chose the one facing her plantation; her supplies were still over there. She unlocked it and swung the fragile panes outward.

Crouched on the sill of the window, Clarke reeled back a little from the drop that loomed below her. There were no helpful vines or rock formations to clamber down. Just the cracks in the stone wall. She carefully lowered herself down the sill, arms trembling from the effort, toes scrabbling for purchase on the smooth blocks of rock. She lowered herself farther, dangling from the sill by her fingertips. Her toes scrabbled on. She felt herself slipping; there was nothing to hold onto. "Shit…" she cursed as her sweaty fingers betrayed her, suddenly grasping at nothing.

She hit the earth with a loud _crack_. Her knees thudded hard against the ground, and her hands followed suite, the sand shallowly scraping her palms. She gasped and shoved her face in the dirt, choking back a scream as a fiery, splintering pain arced through her ankle and up her leg. It was as if thorns were embedded in her bones. " _Shit!_ Shit shit son of a mother-fuck…" she spewed jumbled profanity, tears welling up in her eyes at the _pain._ She pressed her forehead into the cool ground as her wounded ankle faded into a sharp throbbing, ready to spark at the slightest movement. She managed to stand and limp forward. Fire bloomed in her ankle and then faded again. _Broken? Sprained?_ She set her jaw in determination and continued to limp through the tall ferns toward her distant mansion.

It took Clarke longer than she expected to walk to her house. Every time she took a step it was all pain. She took a moment to strip some ferns of their leaves and splinted her ankle, which helped a lot but not enough. When she finally reached her hidden knapsack, the moon had started to rise. If she didn't hurry to the cave, Costia would leave without her.

She reached into the ferns and withdrew two bags. One held her hastily packed treasures. The other was obviously from Costia. She took a moment to peek inside; a full waterskin, a cotton bag of dried meat, and two bananas. Meager pickings, but enough to get her to Port-au-Prince without starving. She assumed Costia and her family all had similar rations. She quickly pulled on the blue gown and her riding boots, and slung the pack straps across her chest. The Caribbean air was unusually cool tonight, and the wind cut through her satin dress like a knife through paper. Clarke shivered; rubbing her arms, she began to limp down to the cave where she and Costia had first met.

 **Costia POV**

"Damn, where is that girl?" Costia muttered, pacing back and forth in the cave. "She should have been here half an hour ago."

"We will wait long time for your friend, Costia. Long as it takes." Her mother said to her. The rest of her family nodded their heads in assent. Her mother's voice was deep and reassuring, heavy with the accent of her ancestors and choppy with broken English. It soothed Costia's nerves; it reminded her of home. "Besides, my daughter, we wait still for the map also." Yes, that damn maid still had not emerged from the mansion with the map they needed. Damn, damn, damn! What was taking so long?

She whirled quickly as footsteps approached the cave's entrance. She leveled her knife, ready to hurl it with deadly accuracy if Cage or one of his cronies appeared. A young woman dressed in a dress and apron appeared, clutching a roll of parchment desperately. Her whole family sighed in relief, letting the tension ease from their nerves. Costia ran up to the girl. "You got it?" she said, narrowing her eyes at the young woman.

"Y-y-yes!" the girl squeaked, and handed the scroll to Costia. Her eyes…they were terrified. She looked like a mouse caught in a trap. A trap…

"I'm sorry!" the girl suddenly cried out. Costia flinched. "Th-they c-c-caught me! I had to tell them!" the girl sobbed into her hands, shoulders shaking violently.

 _No._

"What have you done?" Costia hissed at the girl. She gestured wildly to her family. "We have to get out of here, _now!_ " she shouted. "We can't take the boat; they'll catch us for sure!" she yelled when she saw Wells grab an oar. Her family raced out from the cave in a pack and sprinted along the sand, their bare feet sinking deep. They tore up the plantation trail….right into a group of torch-bearing men, led by none other than the devil himself. He smiled at her, malice etched into his face. "Pity." He clucked his tongue at her. "And to think I was going to let you bury Clarke when I was finished with her." He laughed wickedly. Costia snarled, and was about to launch herself at him, but a flash of shiny blue among the trees caught her attention. _Clarke!_ She averted her eyes from the spot so that Cage didn't notice her gawking at the jungle, choosing instead to stare him down.

 **Clarke POV**

Her back was pressed against the large rock, chest heaving. She had come down through the jungle path, hidden among the ferns, when she heard _his_ voice and flung herself behind the rock in fright. She peeked around the edge of it now, muffling her bags by pressing them against her thigh. The torches his men carried lit up the two groups facing each other, dark against light. But the dark group didn't have dark skin. She saw Costia at the head of her family, staring Cage down defiantly. She listened intently, close enough to catch on to their conversation.

"I have had enough of you and your family's rebelliousness. I gave you a chance to reconsider; I decided not to act until you did. I will not be merciful in delivering the punishment." Cage spoke loudly and clearly. Clarke saw no weapons on any of his men, despite the threats.

"My family will no longer be slaves to men like you, Cage Wallace." Costia boomed. "We will rise up against you again and again, no matter how much you beat and scorn us. My people," her voice lowered into a deep threat, like thunder, "…will never back down." Clarke was awed by her bravery. _Maybe they have a chance!_ Clarke thought. _There are no weapons on Cage's men! Maybe they can get past them…_

And then her heart jumped to her throat when she looked again and saw Cage holding a pistol. It was pointed directly at Costia. She choked and dug her nails into her palms, waiting for one of them to move. Costia's family was unmoving, frozen, not even breathing. Cage's men were statues, all coiled nerves ready to spring. Cage's arm did not tremble as he continued to hold the pistol aloft.

Costia opened her mouth slowly, as if the slightest movement would incline Cage to pull the trigger. Her eyes blazed with a fire, a determination that Clarke couldn't quite place. " _You_ …will _never_ touch my _family_ ever again. You will never threaten their lives with the whip and the rope." She whispered. "You will never again have control over us."

Clarke watched. She watched in horror as Costia spat in his face and took off, sprinting hard, headed straight for Clarke. She watched as her family continued to stand stock still, watching, waiting to see if their kin escaped. She watched as blood bloomed on Costia's chest, staining her clothes, staining her skin, coating the plants and the earth in red, red, red. Costia slammed into the ground right next to Clarke's hiding place, blood on her lips, blood on the ground, blood everywhere. Clarke stared, gaping, a silent scream filling her throat, choking her, tears making sparkling tracks in the grime on her face. Costia's mouth opened and closed like a fish, a dying fish, a fish covered in its own blood.

Then her family was screaming, screaming in a language foreign to Clarke's ears, the unearthly wails of agony echoing off of the rocks and out across the sea. Cage's men descended on them with whips and sticks, beating them and dragging them all back up the plantation trail. "What about that?" one of them said, gesturing to Costia. Cage was sheathing his pistol, a self-satisfied smirk stuck on his face.

"Leave it for the animals." He followed his men up the trail. Costia's family was now as bloody as her from their struggle. They all straggled up the trail, taking their torches with them, until there was nothing left but the moonlight and the shadows.

Clarke shuffled forward from behind the rock and cradled Costia's head in her lap. Tears dripped from her face onto Costia's. She was still alive, barely, her eyes wandering until they locked on Clarke. She lifted her arm from the ground, shaking violently, shoving the map that was still clenched in her fist into Clarke's face. "T-take…it. And…the b-boat. Go. Esc-c-" she coughed violently. More blackness stained the ground. Clarke clutched Costia to her, sobbing, rocking her back and forth. Costia whispered in her ear.

"You…are…family…t-too." A light sigh, and her body relaxed in Clarke's arms.

Clarke threw back her head and howled her sorrow to the sky.

 **Author's Notes: FINALLY I remembered to put this in before I published! Sooo I just wanted to say a few things to my darling readers:3 First, THANK YOU SO MUCH!;~; So many people favorited this story and I am so pumped! Thank you, every one of you, for continuing to inspire me to write this.**

 **Second; Holy hell. I had no idea I could write so fast. The favorites and comments on this had me so excited I just had to keep putting out the chapters! I hope you guys are really enjoying the story so far** **I will try to update regularly but I am a strange, sporadic person who cannot prioritize, so you could get five chapters in a row and then the next a month later.(Not saying that's what I'll do…)**

 **Also, this is obviously a slow-burn story. And I still have no idea where it's going. But do not fret, we will get to see Lexa in the upcoming chapter! *screams internally*XD**

 **Third; I'm sorry-not-sorry for this chapter. It was fun(AND DEPRESSING) to write and hopefully equally as fun to read.**

 **Fourth; I'm sorry about the whole slavery thing. I don't mean to offend anyone, it was just the social norm of those times. I feel like it would be more offensive if I didn't include it. Just listen to Clarke's inner ramblings and you will know how I feel about it:(**

 **And that's all! I should include notes at the beginning/end of every chapter from now on, but they won't be nearly as long as this one. And if I forget, know that I will be banging my head against a wall. Baaaaiiiie for now lovelies!;D**


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors Notes: *sigh* not by a stray bullet, but a bullet nonetheless. I apologize. Also I wanted to mention that I was legit drooling all over my keyboard when I typed up that food scene in the last chapterXD**

Chapter 5: Of Anchors and Ports

Clarke sat with Costia until her blood had dried in the dirt. She felt empty, like a husk of her former self. She breathed in the unusually cold night air. In, out. In, out. There was only numbness. Her tears had left sticky trails on her face. She didn't really mind. In, out. In, out.

She was startled from her reverie by the sound of a door slamming open. She held Costia tightly to her, fear bubbling up inside her. _Fear_. She grasped the emotion, held onto it for dear life. It was her lifeline back to reality, back to _feeling_ something and acting on it.

"WHERE IS SHE?" Cage's voice boomed across the plantation. Anger sprouted up, replacing the fear. She _hated_ this man, this man who had murdered her family. She reveled in her returning emotions. The voice snarled the words again, dragging the syllables out. "WWWHERE ISS SSHHEEEE?!" Lights began flickering up around the plantation. It dawned on Clarke that Cage was most likely asking about her. Panic quickly replaced her hatred.

She grabbed Costia and heaved her up off the ground, holding her whole weight on her shoulder. She could not just leave her here. Snatching up the map and Costia's sack, she began limping down the beach, to the cave where the rowboat still sat. She struggled with the effort of keeping Costia upright and keeping weight off her injured foot. She was halfway down the beach when the voices became louder.

"Do you think she was with them?"

"She might be in the cave."

"Maybe she just decided to go on a midnight walk." She needed to go _now_. Hoisting Costia into her arms princess style, she sprinted through the sand, clenching her teeth at the pain shooting through her leg. Her bags bounced and banged against her thighs, almost tripping her up. _There!_ She spotted the outline of the boat against the moonlit water. Reaching the boat, she laid Costia gently down in it and flung her bags in, pushing with all her might to get the boat in the water.

Voices reached her, louder than ever. One was definitely Cage.

"We found tracks in the sand! They look fresh!"

"Then follow them, you mewling bastards!" Cage howled. He must have been shaking with rage. Clarke shoved the boat harder. It moved sluggishly in the sand; she heaved against it and it finally slid gracefully into the ocean waters. She trotted as fast as she could through the shallows, pushing the boat into deeper and deeper water. Her soaked riding boots sunk into the wet sand, and seaweed grasped at her feet, threatening to yank the boots off. She finally leapt into the boat.

"There! She's there, in the water!" No where to hide now. She grabbed the oars and pulled, pumping her arms faster than she thought possible; the boat fled swiftly from the shore.

"CLAAARKE!" Cage roared her name.

She only rowed faster.

"I WILL GET YOU ONE DAY!" he screamed, his harsh voice echoing over the sea. "YOU WILL NEVER STAY HIDDEN FOR LONG!" Clarke shuddered at the imminent threat in his words. She would be running from him for a long time. Her arms burned from the rowing, but she didn't dare stop. Not until the shore was a speck on the horizon, and her bow was pointed towards Port-au-Prince.

Clarke was shivering. Not only was she cold, but Costia's body was there as well. Tears streamed down her face once more; Costia couldn't be dead. But she was. She had died in Clarke's arms. And the monster that had killed her had left her body in the jungle to rot. She deserved so much better than that. Clarke removed the long shawl that was originally meant to hide her flashy dress from Costia's pack. She wrapped it tightly around Costia, covering her whole body, as more tears streamed down her cheeks. She felt as though the boat would flood and capsize if she cried any more.

Costia had been born on the sea. Her mother had given birth to her in the hold of a slaver ship, and she was raised on the lifetimes of the Africans in that hold; memories and traditions of a home that was lost to them. Now, Clarke would return her to the sea. She undid the splint on her ankle and used the strips of leaves to secure the shawl to Costia. Balancing her weight in the boat, Clarke lifted Costia and gently placed her body on top of the water. Clarke watched as a piece of her sunk down, down into the dark sea. Mist rolled off of the calm water. Clarke shivered again, her heart aching, and lit one of the candles she had brought along. She warmed her hands over the feeble flame and began to sing…a sweet, lilting sea hymn that Abby had taught her, so long ago.

 _In peace may you leave the shore_

 _In love may you find the next_

 _Safe passage on your travels_

 _Until our final journey to the ground._

She rocked back and forth, clutching the small candle tightly. "May we meet again." She whispered to the dark water. The boat drifted on.

Three days of rowing in the blistering Caribbean sun left Clarke's throat parched and her skin as red as a lobsters. She was in misery. _"_ Screw the Caribbean. And screw the sun!" she murmured aloud, squinting up at the offending ball. She halted her rowing and decided to take another water break, even though she was dangerously low on supplies. While sipping from her waterskin she consulted the map taken from Dante's study. There were actually two rolls of parchment; one was an intricate star chart, and another was a nautical map of the West Indies. It showed every port from Havana to Santo Domingo. She was able to decipher both; her mother had taught her well. Perhaps she had known this day would come.

She had maybe another day's rowing before she reached her destination. If she rationed the rest of the water from Costia's pack, she would make it. When she had first decided to investigate her friends' pack, she didn't expect to find a lot. Maybe food and water, just like hers. But she had discovered her own jeweled hairpin, a small dagger, and a stale dark chocolate brownie, which she had eaten immediately.

She recapped the waterskin and set to rowing once more. The oars chafed her hands, leaving terrible blisters, and her blue satin dress did nothing to protect her against the elements. Her arm muscles burned continuously, but the exertion helped keep her mind off of the past few days. There was nothing but the sun, the sea, and the oars…until a dark strip of land appeared on the horizon; Port-au-Prince.

The sun was just sinking below the horizon when Clarke finally pulled up to the dock. She staggered out of the boat, her legs weak from spending four days in a cramped little boat. She stuffed all of her items in one knapsack and slung the strap around her chest, cradling the bag in her arms. God knew what kind of thieving scum lingered around the streets at night. She left the boat tied to the dock, doubting that she would come back for it, and set off to find a good inn or tavern where she could stay the night. She pushed her dirty hair back from her face and rubbed her eyes. Tomorrow…well, she had no idea what tomorrow would bring. _I just seriously need to sleep…and eat._ She thought tiredly.

But of course, fate had other plans for her. As did Mother Nature. The clouds that had been gathering for the better part of the day decided to dump their load on the port at that moment. Clarke clutched her bag even harder, hunching her shoulders against the stinging barrage. In a matter of minutes, her dress was soaked and rivulets of water were running down her legs and pooling in her boots. Her hair stuck to her face and neck in waterlogged clumps. She was actually grateful for the storm; on a clear night, the ports' denizens would be out by the hundreds, fighting and drinking, reveling in their freedom. Even so, the rare person she encountered on the stony paths gave her very strange looks. She had to find somewhere to hide, sleep, whatever; she just had to get off the streets before…

"Hey girly, you lost?" A voice whispered from an alleyway. Clarke stopped abruptly, searching the inky darkness for the voice's owner.

"Yeah, whaddaya think yo' doin' round here, girly?" another voice cackled out of the darkness.

"She lost, she lost!" Another chanted.

"Yous lookin' for a place to stay, baby?"

"You can stay with us!" They all laughed obnoxiously, stepping into the light of a nearby lantern. They were all scoundrels, just your average dirty mugger. Their clothes were torn and muddy, and they were sickeningly thin. Clarke almost felt bad for them.

Almost.

"If you want to keep your guts inside your body, then I suggest that you crawl back to the hole you came from." She snarled. There was no way in hell this was happening right now.

"Aww, c'mon sweets, don't be like that!" They continued to laugh and close in on her. She whipped the knife from where it had been hidden in her bag and pointed it threateningly at the man who was obviously in charge. "A step closer and I slit your throat!" she hissed.

"Woah babe, that won't be necessary, we jus' wanna have a little fun." He put his hands up in surrender, grinning. Clarke grunted as one of them tackled her from behind. They grappled with each other on the ground. There was no point in screaming; no one would come. _I'll have to fight my way out!_ She plunged her knife into the man's arm, and he howled in pain, leaping off of her and scrambling away from the fight.

"Get her!" the leader roared. They surrounded her; she slashed the air with her knife threateningly.

"Stay the fuck away from me! I'll kill you!" she screamed. One of them charged and grabbed the wrist of her knife hand; she sunk her teeth into his shoulder, tasting blood. The man jerked back and howled, clutching his wound. She sliced him across the chest, then whirled and sunk her knife into the third one's neck. The group scattered, nursing their wounds and spewing names at her. She yanked her knife from the man, and he collapsed to the ground, choking on his own blood.

Their leader lingered; his eyes smoldered with hatred and something that looked like…respect?

"You're one tough little bitch." he muttered. She spat in his face; a new distance record for her. He cursed and ran off into the night.

Clarke shivered violently, looking at the dead man on the ground next to her. _I just killed someone._ Her knife slipped out of her fingers and clanged against the stones. She dropped to her knees and threw up in the gutter, shoulders heaving and tears mixing with the rain running down her face. _Oh god. I just…_ she wiped her mouth and picked up her knife, clutching it to her as she continued walking down the road. There were no lights except the odd lantern or two, and there were no more people. There wasn't a chance she would find an inn tonight. She curled up in a relatively dry doorway with an overhang and fell into a fitful, weary sleep, knife hanging loosely from her hand.

Clarke woke to the sound of many, many people. The storm had passed overnight, and the sun was out in full force; as were Port-au-Prince's residents. She hadn't been bothered in the night, probably because her "friends" from last night had spread the word about her bitchiness. She snorted and stood, stretching her cramped muscles. A group of guards were giving her funny looks. Actually, almost everyone who walked by looked at her strangely. _I guess it isn't every day you see a dirty girl in a blue satin dress._ She mused. Regardless, her first priority was sustenance. She followed the smell of fresh bread through the winding streets to a small tavern, drooling at the thought of actual fresh food instead of dried meat. She scurried up to the barkeeper and laid a few coins down in front of him. "A hot meal please." She breathed. He looked her up and down, smiling.

"Sure thing, lass." He disappeared into the back room before reemerging with a steaming plate of three biscuits heaped in gravy. "An' this is on the house." He winked, setting a mug of rum in front of her.

"Thanks" she said gratefully, already digging into the food. She scarfed down the hot biscuits, pure pleasure settling wonderfully in her stomach. "Mmmm…" she let out an appreciative sigh, and the bartender threw his head back, laughing boisterously. She took a swig of rum and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the bar. "So, which one of these ships would be the best to barter passage to another port with?" she asked.

"Well," he chuckled, "the ones presently docked here are mostly trade ships. Their holds are burstin' with goods, an' they don't want no extra pair a' legs weighin' em down. Alls' they care about is money." He picked up a glass and began to clean it with his rag. "If I were ye lass, I'd travel inland and find someone ta take ye to Santo Domingo. Thar's a slew of ships that'll be happy to take ya anywhere."

"I can't go inland. I have to get out to sea as soon as possible." Clarke downed the rum and slammed the glass on the bar. "I can't wait."

The bartender rubbed his chin. "There may be a few boats here that'll take ye. If not…I suppose ye could stow away on one. But I wouldn't recommend it lass. Quite dangerous, 'specially if you get caught." Clarke hopped off of the barstool and tossed him another coin.

"Thanks anyways."She turned to go.

"Wait." He tossed her another steaming biscuit. "Don't go hungry lass." He went back to cleaning glasses.

Clarke smiled and walked out of the tavern into the midmorning sunshine. She nibbled on the biscuit and headed toward the docks. Hopefully she would find a captain willing to take her far, far away from this place. As she walked, she took in the sights. Barrels of god knew what were stacked in every corner, on every surface it seemed. Sailors carried boxes and heavy chests on and off the ships. Others sat making nets or sharpening harpoons. Clarke wrinkled her nose at the smell of fish and salt that permeated the air. Gulls cried out overhead, and sailors cried out orders from the decks. The ships creaked and groaned as waves beat endlessly against their hulls. Merchants shouted the prices of their goods at an auction off to the side, and shopkeepers in little stalls lining the wharf proffered their wares to potential customers. Clarke eyed a set of embellished swords appreciatively. She was baffled by the hustle and bustle of it all.

But that hustle and bustle proved to be Clarke's salvation. A frighteningly familiar voice called to her over the din of the port. "Clarke!" She whirled and searched for Jake Griffin's face in the crowd. There! She spotted him…and next to him…Cage, his eyes murderous. _Shit. SHIT._ "SHIT!" Clarke turned and sprinted away through the mass of people.

"AFTER HER!" she heard Cage shout from behind her. He must have some of his cronies with him. She cursed again. _Of course he found me already. That's just my luck._ What did she expect, though? She had come here in a rowboat, after all. She silently thanked her father for being his stupid-ass self and calling out her name before they snuck up on her. She seriously did NOT want a repeat of last night.

She sprinted through the crowd, shoving people out of the way. She turned up random street, weaving her way deeper into the port city. "Stop her!" she could hear them, still right behind her. She turned a corner and smacked right into a man. He clutched at her arms.

"I'm so sorry miss!"

"Out of my way!" she plunged past him; now they really were right behind her. She thundered down the street back towards the dock; she saw a golden opportunity and pulled her knife, slicing through a rope holding together a pile of barrels as she ran by. The pile collapsed behind her and rolled along the road, tripping up her pursuers. Laughing gleefully at their curses, she sprinted up the dock. It was time to find a boat _now,_ angry captains be damned. If they caught her stowing away... _I guess I'll just have to use my feminine charms._

She spotted a boat that was different from the rest. It flew a Navy flag, but it looked nothing like any of the other Navy ships. Leather sails and a dark, unpainted wood made it unique…and ominous. And perfect for her. There was no one around except a few sailors chatting with each other on the upper deck. All she had to do was slip into the water and- _CRACK!_

The bullet barely grazed her arm, leaving only a shallow, stinging gash. But she dove quickly to the side anyway, just as another shot rang out and whizzed past her ear. Clarke peeked around a barrel. Cage had his pistol drawn, death in his eyes. A third shot glanced off of the barrel's metal brace. Time to go.

She slipped into the water as quietly as she could, silently mourning her ruined sketchbooks. The salt stung her arm and her eyes, but she kept swimming anyway. She approached the hull of the mysterious ship and grasped its anchor chain. She slowly raised her head above the water and took a breath.

"Find her! I want her brought back here! Anyone who comes back empty-handed, I'll shoot!" she listened to Cage's snarling. "Search every ship! If you don't come back at all, I'll find you and gut you like the worms you are!" His men scurried away, their footsteps hasty on the wooden dock. She shimmied up the anchor chain, out of the water, and squished herself through the hole where it dropped through the ship from belowdecks. She wriggled and shimmied inside, finally collapsing onto dry wood. There was not much light down here; only a lone candle lit the darkness, flickering at each slosh of the waves against the hull. Clarke pressed herself against some barrels of gunpowder and listened to the shouting on the deck above her. Cage's men were arguing with the sailors.

"Look, we have to check the ship…"

"No. You don't. We didn' see no blonde girl running up our gangplank. If we 'ad, we woulda stopped her."

"Out of the way, sailor! I'm just trying to do my job. We have to search the ship immediately!"

Clarke heard a thud and a screech. "Shee bwoke mah dnose! 'Elp!"

A silky voice Clarke had never heard before retorted, "No one but my people are allowed on this ship. I'll not have a shitton of maggoty bastards crawling around through my hull." The click of sturdy boots echoed on the deck above, and Clarke shrank back from their obvious power. The same voice spoke loud and clear. "Gents, it's about time we leave this rat-infested port. Haul anchor and loose the mooring line! Get up to those yardarms and unfurl main sails! Anya, tack windward and point our bow towards Nassau."

A chorus of "Aye, Captain!" 's echoed down to Clarke. She thanked every known deity as the ship pulled away from the dock and headed out to open sea. She was free. Now she just had to hunker down for a while and keep it that way. She sat back against the barrel and closed her eyes. No more running, for a while at least. She was relatively safe on this boat, in this little nicely dry loft, as long as she wasn't discovered. The gentle rocking of the boat lulled her to sleep. Nassau. Where had she heard that name before?

Of course she woke up to someone tapping on her shoulder. The little candle had been replaced with a bright lantern, and a stunning girl with dark brown hair and tanned skin sat cross-legged next to her. "Um, hello? Who are you? And what are you doing here?" the girl demanded.

Clarke's eyes widened in fear. _The found me already?!_ "I…I…um, my name is Clarke?" she stumbled over her words.

"Clarke. Are you a stowaway?" the girl narrowed her eyes at her. She was definitely straightforward.

"Well…if I say yes will you keelhaul me?" Clarke muttered. The girl smirked and held out her hand.

"Name's Raven. And no, I won't keelhaul you, but the Captain might." Clarke gulped as she shook Raven's hand.

"What are you even doing down here? I thought this place was pretty secluded…" Clarke pouted.

Raven snorted in disdain. "It's warm and dry. Did you really think no one would come here sooner or later? And actually, I sleep here when I'm not working in the Captain's cabin. Being surrounded by gunpowder helps me think." She grinned.

"Well that's…interesting. What is your trade?" Clarke was determined to draw out this conversation as long as possible. Her insides clenched at the thought of the girl turning her in to the Captain.

"Carpenter, blacksmith, master gunner…mostly anything involving explosives and fixing things." As if to prove her point, she drew a pistol from her belt and twirled it around her finger.

"Wow that's actually impressive." Clarke was amazed at how young the girl was for being a master gunner. "Um, do you think you could maybe…forget you ever saw me?" Clarke shrank back and swallowed her own words as Raven leveled the pistol at her head.

"Sorry, but Captain Lexa doesn't tolerate stowaways. I'm doing you a favor. If anyone else had found you, you'd be dead already." Raven prodded the barrel of the pistol against Clarke's ribs and beckoned for her to get up. "C'mon."

Clarke scrambled to her feet, terrified. She climbed up a ladder and opened the hatch onto the main deck, sunlight momentarily blinding her. Raven followed closely behind. "Stowaway." She told two sailors that were watching with interest. The sailors grabbed her arms roughly and clamped heavy iron shackles around her wrists. She struggled as they dragged her up a short flight of stairs to the half deck. "I'm sorry Clarke, it's nothing personal." Raven called out from behind her.

She was thrown to the deck next to the wheel, pain shooting through her jaw as she smacked against the hard wood. Right in front of her nose was a pair of shining black sea boots. Her gut tightened in pure fear of this Captain, this commander of the seas, this… _pirate!_ She thought, recalling exactly what the port Nassau was infamous for. She sat up and tilted her head back; her eyes traveled up tight black leather pants, past a belt where two glinting cutlasses were sheathed, up the laced corset and thick black belt sashed around the woman's chest, traced a striking jawline, and finally settled on piercing green eyes that bored smoking holes in her face.

Captain Lexa's silky voice sent shivers down Clarke's spine. "So, you're the gutter scum who made the unfortunate decision to stow away on _my_ ship."

 **Authors Note: LOL I just love torturing my darling readersXD**

 **Thank you guys for continuing to support this story, I love you all so much! Hopefully I will update again by Wednesday or Thursday. (I didn't update yesterday like I wanted to because I was too busy playing AC Black Flag…ehehe*shrugs*) Until then, happy reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Of Captain and Crew

 **Author's Note: I don't actually curse in real life. It never really appealed to me. I struggled to type the first f-word in this story for a moment lol*slaps ridiculous self***

Bound in chains and being given evil looks by the majority of the crew, with the threat of death hanging over her, Clarke could only think one thing.

 _God this woman is hot._ Captain Lexa stared her down with piercing, sea-green eyes. Her bare shoulders were deliciously tan, and light brown hair hung in gentle waves down to the middle of her back. Knee-high sea boots and tight black pants covered her mile-long legs, and a multitude of thin belts wrapped around her waist. A corset was cinched around her ribs and laced up the front, and billowy white sleeves stopped just before her elbow. She crossed her bangled arms; long, tapered fingers drummed against her biceps. "What shall we do with you?" Lexa mused, biting her lip. Clarke found her incredibly attractive, to the point of speechlessness. The angry shouts of the crew brought her back to her senses.

"Float her!"

"Yeah, float 'er!"

"No one on the ship but our people!"

"Make her walk the plank!"

"Keelhaul!" she heard Raven's voice cackle out. Various suggestions were throw her way, the most common being "floating".

"W-what's floating?" Clarke managed to find her tongue, avoiding Lexa's eyes. The sailors all guffawed, and the Captain tilted her head.

"We take you to the top of the mast and throw you off into the ocean. Most survive the fall, but then they're left floating in the middle of the sea with nothing but their clothes weighing them down." Clarke gulped. It sounded better than being keelhauled for sure. But, looking at this woman in front of her, who commanded respect and seemed a siren of the sea…there was a way better option.

"How about you let me join your crew?" she spoke confidently, lifting her chin. Lexa's eyebrows shot up, and her laugh rang out across the deck. Clarke's heart stuttered at the sound, then died at Lexa's next words.

"I don't think so princess." The Captain stooped down to Clarke and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look in those mesmerizing green orbs. "I'm not about to let a stowaway off so easy…" she lowered her voice to a sultry whisper, "…no matter how tempting she is." A thrill shot through Clarke as Lexa released her chin and stood. "Gents, run out the plank. We leave her floating." The sailors cheered, shaking their pistols in the air. Clarke's heart jumped to her throat as two of them grabbed her roughly and hauled her over to the gunwales.

"Wait…wait!" she pleaded. They unlocked her chains and shoved her onto the wobbly board. There was no land for miles around them. Clarke had to think quickly-stay with the ship. That's all she knew. If she could make it to the ladder on the other side of the ship…or grab a trailing rope…she began panicking and faced the crew jeering at her over the railing. Lexa stood at the other end of the plank. She drew one of her swords and pointed it at Clarke; her brow seemed furrowed with indecision.

"What is your name, stowaway?" she inquired. Curiosity flickered across her features. Clarke formed a possible plan in her head as Lexa waited for her answer. She grinned wickedly.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She laughed at the surprised, pouty look on Lexa's face and jumped.

 **Lexa's POV**

She breathed in the salty sea air; being on the water was always so exhilarating. She smoothed the wheel with her hand lovingly, feeling all of the knots and ridges in the wood. "What's our speed, Anya?" Her first mate stood next to her, unsmiling but obviously happy.

"Log line says ten knots, Captain." Lexa closed her eyes and breathed in again through her nose, the corners of her mouth turning up.

"Good. " Her ship was unique, truly one of a kind. Fast as a bullet, yet sturdy enough to take the heaviest of hits. Her crew was the best too; all loyal, unwavering, strong; even the mopey swabbie Finn. They were her people. She reveled in their happiness; they were all currently relaxing against barrels with various containers of rum in their hands, laughing and talking about their latest exploits at Port-au-Prince. They had needed the break after three months at sea, and no port would dare deny her, be it Navy or not. She was the most feared pirate in the Caribbean, known for giving no quarter; _and I am going to keep it that way._ She thought as she watched Murphy and Gustus drag a struggling figure up the stairs.

"Oh shit." She breathed as the girl came into view. Anya smirked knowingly beside her. Murphy threw the chained girl to the ground in front of Lexa. "Stowaway." he said simply. Despite being dirty, the girl looked like a mermaid that had flopped up on deck. Golden waves of hair fell down to her lower back, and she was wearing a tattered, deep blue silk gown for some reason. Lexa gulped at the amount of skin the sleeveless dress showed off. Bright blue eyes wide with awe bored into hers. Yes, this girl was a siren sent straight from the deepest depths of the sea, here to claim Lexa's soul. _A soul I would gladly give._ Lexa thought as she watched the girl look her up and down. She resisted the urge to swoon.

"So you're the gutter scum who made the unfortunate decision to stow away on my ship." Lexa forced a harsh tone. Her people trusted her to deal with this like she always did, but damn was this girl hot. The blond continued to examine Lexa and said nothing. "What shall we do with you?" Lexa mused, crossing her arms. Her crew began demanding she float the poor girl. Raven even laughed, shouting, "Keelhaul!" Lexa wondered what that was about.

"W-what's floating?" The girl finally spoke. Her voice was truly the voice of a siren. Lexa struggled to remain stoic as she explained the punishment. The girl seemed a little terrified; but she unexpectedly lifted her chin in defiance.

"How about you let me join your crew?" Lexa smashed her tongue between her teeth, biting back the desperate "yes" that threatened to explode from her mouth. A million different pick up lines ran through her head, but she shoved them to the back of her brain, remaining the merciless pirate that everyone knew her as.

"I don't think so princess." But she couldn't help it, couldn't help herself as she squatted down and grasped the girl's soft chin in her fingers. "I'm not about to let a stowaway off so easy…no matter how tempting she is." Lexa watched with glee as the girl's eyes widened a little and she licked her lips. Lexa stood quickly, before she did something she'd regret(like gently pressing her lips to the girls…) and addressed her crew. "Gents, run out the plank. We leave her floating." The words were bitter as they left her mouth. Murphy hauled her back on her feet and Lexa watched, biting her lip, as the girl was shoved onto the plank. She had a sudden, unquenchable urge to know the stowaway's name.

She quickly parted her sailors and stood in front of the girl. She did not look afraid; in fact, she looked calculated, like she was thinking hard. Lexa drew her sword, as a mere front for her seamen. She just really needed to discover the blond beauty's name…

"What is your name, stowaway?" Her heart leapt as the girl looked her in the eyes, grinning. She was dying to find out…she held her breath in anticipation.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Lexa watched, openmouthed and quite disappointed, as her mermaid dove into the sea and disappeared in the dark water.

She moped in her cabin for the rest of the day, drinking rum and fiddling with her spyglass.

 **Clarke's POV**

She had been hanging on the side of the ship for nearly three hours, literally clinging to the built-in ladder for dear life. Every time a crew member had walked past, close to the gunwales, she had ducked down into the sea, leaving one hand desperately grasping a rung. She was sopping, cold, and exhausted, but at least she wasn't floating in the middle of nowhere. Well…sort of. Dusk had finally fallen; with it, most of the crew had gone belowdecks to sleep. She finally climbed back onto the boat as silently as she could, keeping an eye out for sailors on watch duty. Her soaked dress clung to her skin and the breeze cut through it, leaving goosebumps all over her body. Clarke hid behind a cannon as Raven walked by with a lantern, mere inches away; Clarke stifled her gasp as she noticed her knapsack slung over Raven's shoulder.

She quietly stalked Raven to the Captain's cabin and hid behind some barrels, watching as Raven tapped on the door. Her breath caught in her throat as Lexa opened the door. She looked weary; her clothes were slightly rumpled, and a bottle of rum dangled from her fingertips. "What is it Raven?"

"Captain, the stowaway left this belowdecks. I thought you should have it." Lexa seemed to swell with an unidentified feeling, and her face brightened considerably. "Thank you, Raven. Go get some sleep." Lexa snatched the bag from her and hastily shut the door. _What was that about?_ Clarke wondered. Anyway, she had to get that bag. All of her valuables, everything she truly owned…the flask, Costia's bracelet…was in there. She crept up to the door and slipped inside.

It was the candles that caught her attention first. There were hundreds of them, scattered all around the room, their flickering fires making the shadows dance in the corners. _Is she trying to burn her own ship down?_ Clarke snorted. She crept through the room; there was no sign of the Captain. Off to the side was a long table covered in various charts, maps, and navigational instruments. (And more candles). A multitude of chests, barrels, and boxes were stacked around the room. Clarke jumped when she saw her own reflection in a mirror mounted on a chest of drawers. She was tempted to explore, but first she had to find Lexa and her stuff.

Shuffling noises came from a joint doorway leading to the captain's sleeping quarters. Clarke tiptoed over and peeped around the corner. Lexa was reclining on an impressive bed stacked with furs. She had removed her boots, hat, and jacket and was just opening Clarke's bag.

"You know, if you wanted to check out my junk you could've just asked." Clarke snickered in amusement, leaning against the doorframe. She just couldn't help herself; and Lexa's reaction was totally worth it.

"Y-y-you!" she sputtered, eyes widening to the size of sand dollars. "I…I threw you overboard!" she leapt to her feet, obviously angry and utterly confused; but there seemed to be a flash of joy in her eyes.

"Actually, I jumped overboard. And contrary to what you're probably thinking, no I am not some magical mermaid." Clarke laughed at Lexa's guilty expression, despite her self-consciousness. She really could pass for a mermaid; her hair and gown were still soaked through with salt water. "Honestly, I didn't really enjoy hanging onto the side of your boat for most of the day."

Lexa had composed herself, but her eyebrows still rose. "Did you really? I'm impressed that you managed to stay hidden…until now." She drew her pistol smoothly, pointing it at Clarke. "Unfortunately, stowaways on my ship aren't allowed to live. You are not one of my people, and neither they nor I will tolerate your presence any longer."

Clarke gulped. "I really thought we were past all this." _Shiiiiiiit…_

Lexa smiled roguishly. "Perhaps I could forgive your trespasses…for a price." Clarke arched her brow.

"What could I possibly give you? I literally have nothing to offer except the clothes on my back. Unless you hand over my bag…" she muttered.

"Oh, you'll get this back. But it isn't materials I desire…it's information. Information which you so rudely denied me during our last little chat." Lexa furrowed her brow, staring Clarke down. _Aahhh…_ the corners of Clarke's lips turned upwards in a slow, mischievous grin.

"Alright. I'll give you my name and more. But in return, you have to allow me safe passage on your ship, at least to the next civilized port."

"What? Is a band of bloodthirsty pirates not civilized enough for you? Nassau isn't that bad." Lexa stepped forward, closing a little of the distance between them. Clarke held her ground.

"I'd rather not be stuck there without safe passage off the island. Do you agree or not?" Lexa was still pointing the gun at her, and Clarke was getting impatient.

"I agree. I want your name and whatever else you wish to give me. Then I will allow you to stay on my ship, unharmed, until we make berth at the next Navy port." Lexa stepped even closer to Clarke, lowering her pistol and handing her the knapsack. There were mere inches between them. _Hot damn._ Clarke's train of thought became jumbled as those sea-green eyes searched hers once more. She reached into her bag and pulled out the two little candles she had packed. She placed them in Lexa's hand, electricity sparking between them as their fingertips brushed. She leaned in, centimeters away from Lexa's lips. "My name is Clarke." she whispered, her voice low and sultry.

Lexa was frozen, mesmerized. "Clarke…" she breathed. Clarke leaned even closer, her eyes fluttering shut, inhaling the delectable scent of pine needles and chocolate that surrounded Lexa…

"Octavia! Lincoln!" Lexa suddenly barked, reeling back from Clarke. Two sailors barged into the room, their eyes popping when they alighted on Clarke.

"Ma'am?" they spoke together.

Lexa eyed Clarke. "Lock this stowaway in the brig. We've worked out a deal; she keeps her belongings, and no harm is to befall her. See that she is given sailor's rations, not the usual dung we feed to prisoners. No one visits her without my consent."

"Aye, Captain." They gently took hold of Clarke's arms and guided her back through the cabin. She did not struggle. _Being a prisoner is better than being dead._ She thought wretchedly. Before they closed the door, she cast one last glance back over her shoulder. Lexa was gazing after her, something akin to longing in her eyes.

 **Lexa's POV**

"Clarke. Clarke, Clarke, Claaaaarke." Lexa hummed her mermaid's name, piddling around her cabin. She couldn't concentrate on anything. Clarke was alive, and she had stayed on the ship. Yeah, she only did it to survive, but she was here anyway. And Lexa had locked her up. _Smooth._ She berated herself for the umpteenth time this night, rubbing her temples with her fingertips and pacing around the room. She squashed the urge to visit the brig. She had had to lock her away; her people wouldn't accept Clarke as a fellow sailor. If she even allowed Clarke on deck without her being clapped in irons, there would probably be a mutiny. She had to keep her sailor's loyalty and command their respect. She breathed deeply through her nose and mashed her mushy feelings deep down _. I am the pirate Lexa Waters, the most feared in the Caribbean. I cannot be melted like a candle by a pretty blonde girl._ But she was definitely melting, into a hot puddle of wax; she cradled the teeny candles Clarke had given her in her palms. It was by far the best thing she had ever been given.

"Why is it that every time I come in here I catch you cuddling with inanimate wax cylinders?"

Lexa flinched and looked guiltily up at her first mate. "Luckily it's only you, or my crew would think I had turned into a teddy bear." Anya smiled at her and made herself comfortable in a chair by the chart table.

"I doubt that very much. They don't just respect you, Lexa. They love you. You have brought them joy, prosperity, a family, and all the rum they can drink!" she laughed. Lexa sat beside her, placing the candles on the polished wood. "This girl…" Anya continued, "…you like her. You deserve more than just surviving, Lexa. I think everyone would understand if you invited her to stay permanently. We don't even know her story; why she even stowed away in the first place."

"Do you trust her, Anya?" Lexa peeked up from underneath her lashes at her mentor. She could always count on Anya's instincts. Her teacher may seem ruthless and uncaring, but she was only what could be called wise.

Anya looked at Lexa, her eyes unfathomable. "I do." _Okay._ Lexa thought.

"Well then I guess it's time I introduce her to the crew. Will you talk to them Anya? Help them react a little less negatively?" _We haven't added a new sailor in years…_ Lexa reflected. _And given how they reacted to her stowing away this afternoon…_ "I doubt they will take to her very quickly."

"Leave it to me Captain. I will… _talk_ …to them in the morning." Anya wiggled her eyebrows playfully. Lexa laughed and bid her goodnight. She was exhausted. She tore off her jacket and left it in a heap on the chair. She unbuckled her weapons and let them slide to the ground. She threw herself into bed, wriggling into the delightfully soft furs and clutching Clarke's little candle to her; her eyes drooped sleepily. She didn't yet understand this strange connection she had with Clarke…but she did know one thing.

It was wonderful.

 **Clarke's POV**

She banged her head against the side of the ship. It hurt like hell, but she literally had nothing better to do in this stinking hole than lose brain cells. She went back to pacing, a slight headache blossoming in the middle of her forehead. She welcomed the pain; it kept her from thinking about _Lexa_ , and the fact that she was going to be locked up in the brig for months. She felt as if she would go crazy from the constant slosh of waves against the hull.

She hadn't meant to reveal herself, hadn't meant to fall for Lexa even more. But that _Captain_ had had her all flustered, spewing dumb pick-up lines, making deals with the devil. Now she was trapped in this rotting cage, with no way out and no way to see those tempting green eyes that were so curiously entrancing.

She was pulled from her inner rant by the sound of footsteps approaching very slowly, accompanied by an odd swishing sound. "Hello?" she called softly.

"Hey." A boy with a bucket of sludge and a mop approached her. "Aren't you the stowaway they floated this afternoon?" he looked at her like she was some kind of freaky ghost. "Am I seeing things now?" he muttered to himself.

Despite her circumstances, she laughed. "Yeah, I am, but I kind of got away with hanging on to the side of the boat for a few hours and going up on deck after dark. Kind of." She shrugged.

He smiled humorlessly. "You didn't get very far."

"Obviously." She gestured to the iron bars between them.

"What's your name?"

"Clarke." She gave it easily this time. No more deals.

"I'm Finn." She snorted with laughter. "What?" he pouted.

"That is too ironic to not be funny. You're name is Finn and you live on the ocean!" He just stared at her. She cleared her throat. "Soo, uh, what're you doing down here? The Captain specifically said no visitors…" her stomach flipped a little at the thought of Lexa.

"I'm just a swabbie. I could go anywhere and no one would care, as long as I have a mop in my hands." He mumbled. _Jeez this guy is depressing_. Clarke was already done with his mopey-ness. She had enough of that going on in her own life.

"I wouldn't want you to get in trouble." He merely grunted and continued swabbing. She sighed, suddenly exhausted. It had been a very long day. Rat race in the morning, almost getting floated, three hours plastered to the side of the ship like a barnacle, and her latest confrontation with Lexa had left her burnt out. She laid down on the wooden bench in her little cell, using her knapsack as a lumpy pillow. She clutched Costia's bracelet to her chest for comfort. "Goodnight Finn." She said aloud. He swabbed his way back into the murk of the lower deck, giving her some privacy. "Goodnight Costia…" she whispered, missing her best friend dearly. She thought about the strange place she was in, the tough sailors and smoking hot Captain that had suddenly shouldered their way into her life…into her heart.

"Goodnight Lexa…" she whispered.

 **Author's Notes: So sorry I didn't update earlier! Junior year is killer. Well, here it is. I'm afraid my chapters are too short, but I must satisfy my darling readers3 Also, tell me what you think of the alternating POV's please**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Of Rigging and Romance

 **Author's Note: So I'm am seriously just making this up as I go along, which helps with the purposeful slow burn but they're already in love so it's a moot point. Once again, thank all of you lovely readers for your reviews and your favorites, they give me life(^.^) ALSO credit for some of the pick-up lines goes to (clexa-pick-up-lines) on Tumblr and (Clexa pick up lines) on Twitter. Go follow them**

 **Lexa's POV**

 _I am such a creep. A creepy, lovesick stalker-lady who likes to watch blonde girls as they sleep._ Lexa thought, as she did just that. She bit her lip as Clarke rolled over on the wooden bench. She seemed to be a restless sleeper. _Or maybe it's because I locked her up down here and didn't even give her a pillow._ A mixture of guilt, longing, and apprehensiveness whirled through her. She had come down here to wake Clarke up; it was morning, and it was time to introduce her to the sailors. Lexa was unsure how they would react to her latest addition to their tight-knit group.

She stood quickly, panicking, and adopted a neutral expression as Clarke's eyes blinked open slowly. "Well, it's about time." She said with as much disdain as she could muster. Clarke sat up, rubbing her eyes tiredly, and looked Lexa up and down.

"You seem embarrassed. What's up?" she said sleepily. Lexa fought back the blush threatening to flood her face and stood even straighter.

"It's time for you to meet the crew."

Clarke arched an eyebrow in surprise. "I thought you were going to keep me down here for the rest of the voyage?"

"Contrary to popular belief, not all pirates are merciless, violent nut-cases." Lexa unlocked Clarke's cell. "And… I've changed my mind." She said, more to herself than anything.

Clarke stood and stretched. Lexa gulped and averted her eyes from Clarke's stunning figure, still clad in that fading blue silk gown. She could feel it threatening to spill out…her mouth opened slowly… _No no no STOP shiiiiit…._

"If I told you I liked your body, would you hold it against me?" The words tumbled from Lexa's mouth before she could stop them. She immediately turned red.

Clarke's mouth hung open in disbelief, her arms frozen, still stretched to the ceiling. The dead air between them only emphasized the sudden silence. The corners of her mouth turned up slowly, so slowly, until she was smiling hugely. She threw back her head, laughing loudly, tears of mirth streaming down her face. Her happiness echoed through the hull and pierced Lexa's heart. Clarke doubled over, clinging to the cell bars for support, attempting to regain some composure. "I-I-c-can't believe you just said that!" she hiccupped, still fighting back giggles.

"It…wasn't my best moment." Lexa was positively miserable. She couldn't really believe it either. Years of training to hide her feelings and give no quarter, and she is taken down in one fell swoop by a hot blonde mermaid-like chick that had literally flopped up on deck one day.

"Well, that was actually pretty smooth Captain." Clarke breezed past Lexa out of the cell. Her arm brushed the Captain's, sending a shock through Lexa. "I might take you up on that offer one day."

Lexa watched her mermaid smirk suggestively and turn to head up the ladder and onto the upper deck. She took a moment to wriggle out all of her feelings and calm her erratic heart before following her up into the sunshine.

 **Clarke's POV**

 _Ah, sweet sun!_ Clarke tilted her face up to the warm light and breathed in air that didn't stink of tar and gunpowder. She wriggled her toes inside of her boots happily. She heard Lexa's boots on the deck behind her. She stifled a giggle, thinking about what had just transpired in the hold. She still could not believe Lexa had said that. Did she really have that much of an effect on her?

A sudden loud thud behind her made her jump in surprise. Lexa had banged a cannonball against the railing of the deck. The sailors stopped what they were doing, and all eyes focused on Lexa. "Gents!" she spoke loud and clear. "We have a new addition to our little family. This is Clarke." She gestured to her. Clarke felt all eyes on her, most sparking in confused recognition. She glanced down at her dress, feeling self-conscious. Its color had faded to a sky blue from the salt, and it was almost worn through in some areas. The hem was ratted and dirty (as was her hair, she noticed). She blushed a little, embarrassed by her less-than appealing appearance.

The sailors began muttering among themselves.

"Didn't we…?"

"Yeah, isn't she…?"

"I thought we floated her yesterday! What gives?" A sailor demanded arrogantly. Lexa glared at him.

"She managed to climb back aboard while we weren't looking. She took the initiative; she is smart and tough. I have deemed her worthy to join the _Seikru_." She narrowed her eyes at the sailors, who all shifted uncomfortably. "I expect you all to treat her as one of our own. And if any harm comes to her…" Lexa lowered her voice to a menacing whisper…"The punishment will be as if you had attacked me. Understood?"

"AYE, CAPTAIN!" the crew shouted, resigned. They didn't glare at Clarke, but they didn't give her particularly friendly looks.

"Alright you bilge rats!" Lexa hollered. "Get up to those yardarms and loose the main sail! Tack leeward and ease away, and bring us up to top knot! I want to see New Providence on the horizon in a week!" The sailors scrambled to carry out her orders. Clarke watched them, mesmerized by their movements as they hauled themselves up the rigging.

"Clarke." Lexa spoke her name softly. "I will have Raven take you to your quarters and show you around the ship. You're free to do as you please until dawn tomorrow; then I'll put you to work." She turned on her heel and headed to her quarters.

"Lexa, wait!" Clarke gulped at her informal tone but continued on. "I just have one question." Lexa turned to her, eyes glinting with an unknown emotion. "What is _Seikru_?"

Lexa smiled. "The name of my ship." She disappeared inside her cabin.

Clarke rubbed her temples and sighed. _That woman is really in my head._ She whirled around at the sound of laughter. Raven was leaned against the railing, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

"I'm honestly tempted to not give you new clothes, just to see the Captain's face when there's nothing left of your current ones except your boots." She howled with laughter at Clarke's tomato-red blush and limped towards her, grinning. "But I'm not that mean. C'mon, let's get you out of that mermaid dress and into something sturdy." She led Clarke down into the hold, weaving between hammocks and barrels. "Just come down here and choose a hammock when it's time to turn in. Most are already claimed, but there are a few empty ones." They reached the stern, where a few chests were tucked closely together. Raven heaved one open and motioned for Clarke to look inside. "Take what you want."

Clarke bent over and rummaged through the trunk. "You seem to be a girl who's used to fine things." said Raven, watching her curiously.

"Yeah, I'm used to living it up. But I don't want that life anymore." Clarke brushed off the unspoken questioning in Raven's eyes. She pulled on a pair of sturdy brown pants and tucked them into her boots. She pulled her dress off over her head and it landed in a crumpled pile on the floor. A hint of a blush covered Clarke's cheeks as Raven looked her up and down shamelessly.

She reached into the trunk once more and pulled out a billowing white shirt, similar to what Lexa wore. She pulled it on, tucking it into her pants, and cinched a thick leather belt around her waist. "How do I look?" She turned to Raven, who regarded her thoughtfully.

"You need a jacket." Raven shuffled over to another trunk and pulled out a short, dark blue coat. "Blue seems to be your color." She grinned slyly and handed her the jacket. "Or do you prefer green? Maybe as an eye color?" Clarke swatted her on the shoulder, blushing once more. She pulled on the jacket and knotted a scarf around her neck.

"Alright, I think this is good. Thank you, Raven." Clarke turned around and ran face-first into two boys that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. She reeled back from the unexpected proximity. "Holy sh-"

"RAVEN!" the boys screeched, rushing past Clarke to where the dark haired girl stood. Her hands met their faces before they could get any closer, effectively preventing them from squeezing the life out of her. One of them was tall, and had large, peculiar-looking glasses on his head. The other was shorter and had black, floppy hair.

"Jasper, Monty!" Raven huffed in annoyance, but Clarke could see the mirth in her eyes. "What did you do this time?"

"Well, we were tinkering with Lexa's spyglass…"

"And some gunpowder."

"Aaaand we kind of maybe broke it a little…"

"We also had some rum."

"And now we can't fix it."

"We set some stuff on fire, including her spyglass." They spoke like they had grown up together, the words mixing together like pirates and rum; two halves of the same whole. A strange longing pierced Clarke's heart for just a second. "Hey Clarke!" They grinned at her, speaking in unison.

"Oh for the love of God." Raven turned to Clarke exasperatedly. "These yahoos are my apprentices. Sorry, but would you excuse us for a second? Just wait up on deck; I'll only be a moment." She turned back to Jasper and Monty, grabbing them by the ears.

They laughed and screeched, trying to pry their ears from Raven's grasp. "Ow, ooowwwUH! Bye Clarke! OW!" She dragged them away, muttering about recklessness and Lexa's wrath.

Clarke smiled and shook her head. It felt good to be accepted by at least some of the crew. She made her way back up to the deck, oddly comfortable in her new clothes.

 **Lexa's POV**

Lexa paced up and down the length of her cabin, hands clenched behind her back in anger.

"Captain, this is unacceptable! We can't just allow a stowaway onto the _Seikru_! She needs to be punished! You cannot just allow her to join the crew and get a free ride to Nassau-"

"Yes, I can, Gustus! This is my ship; I can do what I please with it!" She growled at the seaman and his companions, who shifted uncomfortably. "Clarke showed her strength and her wits when she climbed back aboard. I rewarded her initiative. This isn't some kind of exclusive club; I will take whatever sailors I can get!" she said sternly.

"But Captain! She should be dead! We do not need more sailors, especially a stowaway!" He narrowed his eyes. "Only those loyal to you sail on this ship. We cannot trust the girl." He concluded. Lexa stepped forward, staring him down despite the foot of height difference.

"Are you questioning my orders, sailor? Think you can make better decisions?" She spoke in a sickly soft voice. He backed down a little, but still met her gaze evenly.

"Never, Captain. I only wish to express my concerns…many of the crew are unhappy with this decision you have made. I fear a mutiny."

Lexa sighed, suddenly very tired. She sat at her chart table and rubbed her temple. "I understand, Gustus. We share the same fears. Please, trust me. Clarke is no threat." She stood suddenly. "Octavia!" she commanded. A girl stepped forward, wary.

"Aye, Captain?"

"I have a job for you. Hopefully it will help ease everyone's distrust of Clarke. I want you to become friends with her, and find out everything you can about how she got here, and why she stowed away in the first place. Gain her trust." The crewmen grumbled happily, eyebrows raised, nodding their approval.

"Aye, Captain. That sounds like a good plan." Octavia smiled. "I will relay your decision to the rest of the crew." The sailors filed out contentedly. Anya stepped out of the shadows once they were gone.

"I was ready to bust some faces, but you handled that well Captain." Lexa smiled in gratitude at her first mate.

"Thank you Anya. I just hope they accept her….I don't want her to wake up to a pistol in her face one day."

 **Clarke's POV**

It was soon dusk. She had spent the whole day literally learning the ropes of working on a ship. Raven and another sailor, Octavia, had offered to take her on as an apprentice, which she had gladly accepted. The sun was sinking slowly on the horizon, the sky awash with color, pinks and oranges tinting the white wisps of cloud in the sky. Most of the sailors were turning in for the night. Clarke followed them down into the hold.

"Clarke, you can sleep here." Raven whispered, gesturing to a hammock. Clarke smiled at her gratefully and nestled herself into the canvas. "Sleep tight." Raven held aloft a flickering lantern, going from each sailor to the next and bidding them goodnight. Jasper and Monty were curled up together in a hammock to the left of hers, and Murphy was on her right. It was a homely atmosphere.

But something was missing. She shifted uncomfortably, unused to the heaving of the ship and the rough material under her. _I am used to finer things._ She thought miserably, rolling over once more. The canvas rubbed against her cheek unpleasantly. Huffing in frustration, she rolled out of the hammock and snuck quietly between the rows of sleeping sailors and up the ladder to the deck. Maybe she just needed some air.

Clarke leaned against the railing, gazing up at the twinkling lights. It was difficult to tell where the sky ended and the sea began. She breathed deeply, enjoying the night breeze that washed over her skin. Her mind flew back to the last few nights she had spent on the plantation, and she almost fell to her knees at the pain of her heart aching for Costia.

"Can't sleep?" Clarke jumped a little at the unexpected voice. Lexa leaned on the rail next to her, white sleeves and long hair billowing in the breeze.

"Yeah. I guess I'm just not used to sleeping on a ship. I should…go." Clarke bit her lip, torn between exhaustion and a decent conversation with the gorgeous woman in front of her. She turned away.

Lexa laid a hand on Clarke's, making a zing of electricity race up her skin. "No, please stay. What _are_ you used to?" Clarke turned back to her; there was a hint of desperation in Lexa's eyes. Her hand lingered.

"Well…I'm used to finer things. A large bed with lots of warm pillows and blankets." Clarke furrowed her brow. _I shouldn't be opening up to her. Why do I trust her so much_? "Huge meals and pretty dresses. People waiting on me." Her tone suddenly became bitter. "And not getting to choose what was best for me…" Her eyes suddenly flicked up to Lexa's, sky blue locking onto sea green. "…or who to love."

Lexa's eyes widened a little. They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity. Clarke could see the confusion on her face, the curiosity. She wanted to know more. Clarke finally slid her hand out from under Lexa's and moved away from the railing, towards the trapdoor that led to the hold.

"Wait…" Lexa called out from behind her. Clarke turned around once more, only to be greeted by the stunning sight of a smiling pirate captain. "I know a place where you will sleep more comfortably."

Clarke grinned at her. "Again with the pick up lines, Captain? I swear to god, if you say in your arms…"

Lexa blushed lightly. "Not exactly." She winked at the blonde. "In my bed." Clarke gaped at her, speechless. "C'mon." Lexa chuckled and grabbed Clarke's hand, leading her into her cabin. "If you're used to an actual bed, you can use mine. I'll just sleep there…" she waved at a comfy-looking chair in the corner, "…I do most nights, anyways." Clarke released Lexa's hand and ran her fingers along the soft furs of the Captain's bed.

"Are you sure?" Clarke muttered, blushing a little. "I don't want to be a bother…"

"Oh, just sleep Clarke." The way Lexa said her name sent shivers through Clarke, that sultry voice worming its way into her mind. "A tired sailor is no good to me." At that, Lexa slipped off her boots and curled up in the chair, watching expectantly.

Clarke huffed in resignation and pulled off her own boots and jacket, slipping between the covers. She sighed contentedly and snuggled into the warm pillows. Lexa got up and lit a candle, setting it on the nightstand. _That's my candle…_ Clarke thought drowsily, her eyelids heavy with sleep. _Now this…this feels like home._ As her eyes closed and her mind began to drift, a tentative hand gently brushed her hair back, grazing her cheek.

" _Goodnight Clarke."_

 **Author's Notes: *SQUEALS IN DELIGHT* I had way too much fun writing that!XD I'm falling into a pattern now, so next chapter will probably be posted next weekend!**

 **Thank you** **desdentado** **for being awesome on Tumblr and giving me the muse to finish this tonight!**

 **I also put up some sketches of Clarke and Lexa's pirate outfits on Tumblr if you guys want to check them out! Just search the tag** **pirate lexa** **and/or check out my profile,** **archangels187-n3rd** **.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Of Pencils and Personal Space

 **Author's Note: I love you guys:3**

Clarke woke sleepily to a light tapping on her shoulder. "Clarke!" a voice sniggered. "Hey miss sexy siren, get up!" She lurched out of bed, wide awake and very confused.

"What?! Wh-where?" This wasn't her room. This wasn't her bed. She rubbed her eyes as her brain slowly caught up with her body and remembered where she was. "Raven." She looked sideways at the girl next to her, who had a huge, shit-eating grin on her face.

"Well well, someone had a fun time last night, didn't they? I wondered how you managed to get in the Captain's good graces so quickly." Raven winked at her, setting a slightly charred telescope down on the nightstand. Clarke blushed furiously, suddenly aware of exactly where she was, and what this looked like.

'It-it's not what you think!" she pleaded. "I couldn't sleep, so I went up to the deck for some air, and then Lexa-"

"Save it princess. I'm not judging." Raven laughed. "Even if you didn't do what I think you did, others may need serious convincing. Like Anya. In fact, I'm pretty sure Lexa was just about to send her in here for her spyglass…"

Clarke leapt out of the bed faster than a lightning bolt and quickly tugged her boots on. She hurriedly arranged the covers into a decent position and grabbed her coat off of the floor. "Hide me!" she hissed at Raven as she heard the door to Lexa's cabin creak open. Raven shoved her between some barrels and told her to stay quiet. Anya walked in on her casually leaning against the nightstand, examining the telescope.

"What's up?"

Anya took the spyglass from her hands and stalked out. "Well good morning to you too." Raven muttered. "All clear Clarke."

"Thank god. She doesn't really like people, does she?" Clarke huffed, trying to squirm out of her hiding place.

"She isn't a morning person. And she doesn't like anyone except the Captain. By the way," she helped Clarke up, "…you owe me one."

Clarke brushed herself off. "Remind me later and I'll make it up to you." An extremely mischievous look flitted across Raven's face for a split second, and then disappeared just as suddenly.

"C'mon princess, I'll make sure you aren't caught on your way out." They made their way out into the bright midmorning sun.

"Don't get used to sleeping in." The dark-haired girl from the other day walked up to them immediately. "Captain's put you under my charge until you can follow orders on your own." She looked Clarke up and down. "You also kinda have sex hair. Might wanna fix that." Clarke hurriedly tried to smooth her golden waves, blushing profusely. Raven smirked. "I'm Octavia by the way, if you didn't know already." They shook hands. "What you did yesterday was just so you could get a feel for how we work around here. Hang out with me and my crew for a while, and you'll be wishin' the sea had taken you when you first got floated. C'mon, then."

Clarke was already tired. She worked and worked, hauling ropes, rolling barrels, tying off cannons, even furling the sails up in the yardarms. Despite her exhaustion and burning muscles, she enjoyed the hard labor for some reason. As she was taking a break, Octavia came up to her. "Already burnt out?" She sat next to Clarke, handing her a biscuit.

"Nah, I got a lot left in me."

"Good, because the day isn't nearly over." Octavia took a swig from her flask. Clarke remembered her own rum and pulled the engraved flask from her jacket, cradling it in her palms. "The Captain is staring at you."

"What?!" Clarke flinched a little and whipped her head back and forth, searching for those familiar green eyes. Octavia guffawed, banging her rum against the railing. "So it's true! The rumor that you slept with Lexa last night! Oh my god, that's why your hair was funky this morning!" Clarke blushed furiously, ready to strangle the other girl.

"That's not true!" she hissed. "I just slept in her bed, not with her! I swear!" Octavia wiped tears of mirth from her eyes and patted Clarke on the shoulder, still chuckling.

"I believe you. I'll make sure that rumor is put to bed immediately, no pun intended." Clarke put her face in her hands, so done with everything. "Honestly though, with the way the Captain looks at you, I wouldn't doubt it." She got up and sauntered off. Clarke took a few generous gulps from the flask again, smoothing her thumb over the initials on the bottom. L.W… _Lexa Waters._ No, that couldn't be possible. She snorted at the idea and shoved the offending container back into her pocket. She hopped down from the barrel and trotted to the mainmast, scaling the ropes up to the crow's nest.

"Whaddaya think yo doin up here, mate?" The sailor on watch frowned at her. "I'm not supposed to be relieved 'till midday."

"Consider yourself relieved now. Go get some rum, I have things covered here."

The sailor raised his eyebrows, and then shrugged. "Been lookin' to get some grog for a while anyway." He left her with the spyglass. Clarke smirked, and then pulled her sketchbook from under her jacket. Some of the paper had been ruined by the sea, but most of it was intact. She chose a spot on the horizon and began drawing, peeping through the spyglass every once in a while. She scratch of pencil on paper and the whisper of wind across canvas sails comforted her immensely. Eventually, she crawled out of the nest and onto the yardarms. She sat on the strong wooden beam, swinging her legs back and forth and nibbling the end of her pencil in thought. Her paper flapped back and forth wildly in the windy conditions.

"Captain on deck!" the sailors cried out below her. Clarke bit her lip and twisted around on the beam, craning her neck to see Lexa below her. She stalked up to the wheel, boots clicking on the deck, earrings jangling, curls twisting and jumping in the wind. Clarke almost fell off of the yardarm trying to get a better view of the sea goddess. She eagerly began sketching Lexa, not wanting to miss the opportunity to capture such strong beauty. Her pencil scratched frantically over the paper, adding detail quickly as only an experienced artist could, her hands glorifying those piercing eyes, the way her shoulders curved so smoothly, how her mouth was turned down into a constant pout-

"SHIT!" Clarke flailed for the drawing as the wind snatched it from under her pencil. It, however, wasn't worth becoming a smear on the deck, and she held tightly to the yardarm in order to keep her balance.

The paper spiraled down, down through the ropes…and straight toward Lexa. Clarke watched it with horror, leaping into action only when panic set in. "Holy shit holy shit holy…" she scrambled back to the crow's nest and down the mainmast as fast as she could without killing herself. She was running as soon as she hit the deck, watching the paper tap Lexa's shoulder and settle next to her boots. She took the stairs two at a time, watching as Lexa noticed the paper and bent down to retrieve it. She stretched a hand toward the drawing…the world seemed to be moving in slow motion. The Captain could _not_ see that picture…

"LEXA I CAN EXPLA-" **KA-THUNK.** Clarke's face connected with solid wood.

"Don't tell me you're… _falling_ for me already." a silky voice above her murmured. Clarke wanted to melt into the oak beneath her and disappear forever. "Fuck." She mumbled, pain lancing up her jaw. She had tripped over her own damn feet. She squinted up at a grinning Lexa. The Captain folded her drawing and tucked it into her shirt, eyes sparkling. "This is an interesting picture Clarke. I hope you don't mind if I keep it?" She bent down and brushed Clarke's nose with her fingertip.

Heat flooded Clarke's face, and she quickly stood. Her head throbbed, and she felt woozy for a moment. Lexa stepped close to her and grabbed her arms. "Steady there." she murmured to the blonde, definitely not helping Clarke regain her composure.

"I'm fine…ow." Clarke backed away from the Captain and leaned on the railing, flustered from her fall and Lexa's closeness.

"I don't think so, Clarke." Lexa followed her to the railing, invading her personal space once again, and fluttered her fingers along Clarke's jaw. "This looks like a nasty scrape." Clarke's breath sped as Lexa leaned _even closer_ , examining the wound. Their eyes flickered to each other's lips, then eyes. They stared at each other for centuries.

"Um…Captain?"

Lexa jerked back from Clarke, who suddenly remembered how to breathe. "What is it Gustus?" she demanded.

"We're coming up on a ship. They aren't flying any colors." Lexa took a shaky breath.

"Rally the crew. Come about and hail the ship. If it's friendly, we don't take them. If not…." She winked at Gustus. "And bring me the ointment from the remedy box in my cabin." The sailor hastened off to do her bidding. Lexa turned back to Clarke, who was staring at the deck with a blush still painting her cheeks. Lexa reached over and fingered a piece of her golden locks, a mischievous smile turning up her lips.

"I think it's about time you joined us on a raid."

 **Author's Note: FORGIVE MEEEEE! I'm so sorry this is like two weeks late and it isn't very longX( my sister and her friend came over for spring break and I neglected this story to hang out with her; plus she turned my bedroom into something that could star on the show Hoarders. (It kinda destroyed my muse.) But, I'm back on it now and I am going to seriously write all week and make it up to you guys. Love you forever!3**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Of Treasure and Temptation

 **Author's Note: Just wanted to say thank you to everyone who left a review! You guys are amazing and so inspiring! I never really understood how much effect reviews had on writers until I created this story. Some serious muse goin' on:D Anyway, enjoy!**

Clarke clutched the railing tightly as the ship gradually sped up to catch the vessel ahead of them. "Lex-…Captain, what if they are also pirates?" Clarke turned to the woman standing next to her and flinched back. If was like a different person stood beside her; Lexa stood tall and proud, hand resting lightly on her sword hilt. Her eyes were dark and thunderous, and there was no trace of a smile on her face.

"If they are pirates, then they will know to fear me." Clarke was in awe of the fierce warrior who stood before her. "Gents, we fill the hold tonight!" Lexa roared. The crew shook their swords in the air and shouted with excitement and adrenaline. The enemy ship was much closer, and Clarke could see the sailors frantically scurrying around on its deck as the _Seikru_ cut swiftly through the water towards them.

"Roll out the guns! Load the heavy shot and prepare to broadside!" Lexa commanded. Her sailors leapt into action. Clarke only stood there, dumbfounded, as Lexa turned to her. Pain flitted across the Captain's face. "That means you too, Clarke." _Must we all descend into madness?!_ Clarke jerked out of her reverie and assisted with the guns, loading the insanely heavy cannonballs alongside Raven and Octavia. She could see the enemy sailors readying their cannons too as they pulled alongside the ship. She drew out her old pistol from within her jacket. Her eyes flickered to the words painted on the ship's hull… _Skaikru._

"FIRE!" Lexa crowed triumphantly. A similar shout emanated from somewhere on the _Skaikru_.

 _ **BOOOOM!**_ The explosions split through Clarke's ears and rattled her teeth. The railing beside her burst apart in a shower of wood. The ships shuddered and rocked as the heavy iron balls tore through them.

"Board, board, _board_!" Lexa cried out. The crew swung on ropes to the other ship's deck. A large plank connected the two ships, thudding against the railing with a hard clunk. Pirates swarmed onto the deck, swords ringing and flashing in the afternoon heat, bullets whizzing past and cries of pain on both sides. The enemy cannon fire lessened as frightened sailors fell back. Clarke ducked behind the railing, occasionally popping up and firing at the enemy sailors. She was terrified, but also thrilled. A wicked grin was stuck on her face, blood thundering through her veins as she reloaded her pistol. It was chaos on both decks. She glimpsed Octavia charging across the plank with her sword held high, screaming out a terrifying war cry. A large, dark-skinned man accompanied her, watching her back.

Clarke also saw Raven up on the forecastle. How she had managed to climb up there, Clarke didn't know. She held a long, strange-looking rifle that seemed to have a telescope stuck to it. Her shots were deadly accurate, incapacitating sailors with precise shots to the shoulder or leg. Clarke choked on the smoke that filled the air, the smell of gunpowder flooding her senses.

" _ **Enough! Stop, stop this madness!"**_ A deep voice thundered through the hazy air. Every sailor hesitated. Clarke watched as Lexa emerged from the throng of panting men (and women). Blood glistened on her double swords and trickled from a cut above her eyebrow. Black smudges were streaked across her face, sweat leaving clear trails through the grime. She looked every bit a badass pirate captain.

"I'd know that voice anywhere." Lexa smirked. "Come out, Kane, and surrender. You know I'll burn your ship to ash if you don't."

"And burn all of the treasure I have in the hold along with it? I doubt it!" A harsh laugh accompanied the voice, and a man pushed through his bewildered crew. His hair was mostly dark, with a manly salt-and-pepper beard. He was tall, strong, and clad in a normal sailor's outfit; but he was obviously the one in charge. "Captain Lexa. I should have known it was you." Lexa sheathed one of her swords and clasped arms with the strange man, smiling hugely.

"It is good to see you, old friend."

"Likewise, although I thought we agreed to meet on better terms…"

"Of course! Gentlemen, sheathe your weapons." Lexa turned to her crew, who reluctantly put away their arms. Clarke stuffed her pistol back in her jacket and scrambled across the plank onto Kane's ship, curiosity blazing inside of her. "You remember our terms?" Lexa raised an eyebrow.

"Of course Captain. Take what you desire. But please…" a pained expression took over Kane's face. "Leave me enough to make a good profit in Havana." Lexa laughed and clapped the man on the shoulder.

"Good man! Tell your crew to stand down. We will help with repairs, and help lighten your load, and then be on our way." Kane nodded, slightly miserable but obviously accepting.

"I would rather give up my job than be faced with the full force of your wrath again, Captain Lexa, as would many other honest sailors on these seas. Your reputation precedes you." He motioned for his sailors to disperse and withdrew to his cabin. They did so reluctantly, grumbling as they began patching up their ship.

"Lincoln, Gustus, go back to the ship and record the damages. Have Raven and her team patch them up with supplies from Marcus's ship. Anya and Octavia, get the wounded back on the ship and help them as best you can. The rest of you, to the hold!" The crew screeched with glee and raced down the ladders into the belly of the ship.

Clarke trotted towards Lexa and caught her shoulder. "What was that?" Lexa turned to her, smiling at the complete bewilderment on her face.

"As Captain Marcus said, my reputation precedes me. You won't see much battle aboard the _Seikru_ normally; I usually make my presence known. This was a rare occurrence. And, he likes to promote good relationships with the savages of the sea." She winked and clasped Clarke on the shoulder, and then playfully pushed her to the ladder. "Ladies first."

Clarke stuck out her tongue at the Captain and descended into the dark interior of the ship. Cackles of glee reached her ears as she slipped down the rungs, boots thumping hard on the wooden planks beneath her.

"Captain, looks like we hit the mother load!" Finn crooned. Clarke raised her eyebrows. _When did he get here?_

"I won't have you pocketing anything in those chests, swabbie. You'll get your fair share of the loot." Lexa thudded down next to Clarke, eyeing the shaggy-haired boy. She turned to the blonde, grinning. "Well? Open one." Clarke looked around at the numerous chests and boxes of the hold. In the corner, partially hidden in the darkness, a large tarpaulin was draped over boxy shapes. That seemed a good place to start. She stalked over and grasped a corner of the tarp, tearing it off and tossing it away. Underneath were some heavy-looking, padlocked chests. Their wood was thick and sturdy, and the hinges seemed to be made of gold. Clarke bent over to inspect the chests further.

"That's some pirate booty you've got there, Clarke." Lexa lounged against a barrel, smirking at her. The sailors around her laughed rowdily, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively. Clarke wanted to bang her head against the hull as heat flushed through her face. "Is this gonna become a regular thing?" She growled, straightening up, the blush refusing to fade from her cheeks.

"Afraid so." Lexa sauntered past Clarke, looking her up and down from the corner of her eye. Clarke flinched as the Captain whipped out her pistol and used the butt of it to smash a chest's lock to smithereens. Lexa heaved on the lid.

Clarke gaped as a golden light seemingly poured from the chest. It was a pirate's dream. Huge golden coins, engraved with all manner of creatures and symbols, filled the chest. They gleamed like sunlight, pure and polished. Gold bricks poked out from among them, chiseled into perfect rectangles. Rings and necklaces fitted with gems glinted up at her, and all manner of rubies, sapphires, and emeralds caught the light, sparkling and shifting with the flickering of the torches. Clarke thought she even spotted a diamond or two among the hoards of gold and jewels.

Lexa fisted the coins in her hands, looking at it like a ravenous dog. She hummed a little, eyes wide and an evil smile gracing her lips. "A good find, Clarke!" She picked up a ring (that was definitely a diamond) and pocketed it. "We'll make a decent pirate out of you yet."

Clarke met Lexa's eyes unexpectedly. She fought back the blush that threatened to return and attempted to tear her gaze away from those mesmerizing green orbs. Electricity seemed to be building between them, and it only worsened as the rest of the sailors gradually exited the hold with their various crates. They were alone.

Lexa broke eye contact and turned away, towards the open chest. It didn't diminish the charge sparking through the thick air. Clarke opened her mouth, ready to break the tension with some witty one-liners, when Lexa turned back toward her. She held aloft a gorgeous silver choker necklace embedded with a pattern of deep blue sapphires. "Here. I think this will complement those…eyes of yours. May I?" Lexa didn't wait for an answer.

Clarke gulped visibly as the Captain walked around her and carefully brushed back her hair. She tensed as Lexa's fingers slid over her neck and secured the necklace at the hollow of her throat. It was tight, but not uncomfortably so, and the metal was smooth and cool on her skin. It contrasted sharply with the fire of Lexa's fingers lingering at her collarbone. Heat surged through Clarke as Lexa's breath whisked over the skin where her shoulders met her neck. She couldn't move a muscle; her breathing was heavy and loud in the quiet, empty hold. "Lexa…" she whispered, biting her lip.

"Beautiful." The Captain said simply, before withdrawing her hands. Clarke noticed that they shook a little.

The electricity shattered as a shout emanated from the upper deck. "Captain, you are needed at the helm."

Lexa sighed, tearing her gaze away from Clarke, as a few sailors descended the ladder. She spoke to them all. "Finish hauling these last few chests aboard the _Seikru_." Clarke fingered the jewels at her throat. She heaved one of the lighter chests up, her arms wrapped underneath it. It was still insanely heavy. She grunted at its weight squished against her chest, and followed Lexa up the ladder into the sunlight.

Angry voices met her ears as she emerged from the hold.

"Bellamy, I order you to stand down!" Captain Kane's enraged voice made Clarke cringe a little. She gasped when her eyes alighted on the scene before her. A boy with jet black, unruly hair that looked disturbingly similar to Octavia stood with his back to the railing. He held a knife to Lexa's throat. Fear surged through every nerve, coalescing into a knot of pain in her gut. _Lexa!_ She could do nothing, the boy named Bellamy held Lexa in front of him as a human shield.

"No, Kane! I told you we should have kept fighting; now these savages are stealing from us, and you don't bat an eye?!" the boy was clearly out of control.

"I have a deal with Captain Waters! Release her! Or, first mate or not, I will leave you to rot on the next sliver of sand we come across!" Kane moved toward the boy, but Bellamy only held the knife more firmly against the Captain's neck.

"No!" he snarled in Lexa's ear. "Tell your pirate scum to get the hell off of our ship, or I'll slit your throat you little bitch!"

Clarke vision was tinted with red. She was ready to bash his skull in with her pistol. Luckily, she didn't have to.

Lexa shifted her head to peer at Bellamy out of the corner of her eye. "Last chance, scum. Release me." Bellamy only laughed as line of red appeared on Lexa's neck, blood trickling from the shallow wound.

"I don't think you're in a position to give me orde-" Her choked on his own words. Clarke only gaped at the gruesome scene. Blood gushed from the stump that used to be the boy's hand. He screamed in pain, clutching his arm and writhing on the deck. Somehow, Lexa had flipped Bellamy around while simultaneously disarming him and using the weapon against him, all in a matter of blurry seconds. Lexa watched him squirm in agony. Clarke compared the look on her face to that of someone who had just found a maggot in their food.

"Gentlemen, carry on." Lexa motioned to her sailors, who stared openmouthed at the still whimpering boy. "Get those chests loaded. We shove off in two minutes." Kane approached Lexa, remorse and regret written plainly on his face.

"I apologize, Captain. He is a new recruit, fresh off the plantations. Thank you for getting some sense into that silly head of his." Lexa glared at him, tapping her boot expectantly. "I really did call you for something important though." Kane held out a deep, deep emerald ring. It was like no green Clarke had ever seen before. Lexa's eyes widened at the prize, and she gingerly took it from him and examined its intricacies. "The sailors and Captain of the _Trikru_ say hello and offer their services. Captain Indra told me if I should come across you, I should tell you Titus was getting worked up over the state of your souls?" Kane sputtered. He obviously didn't know what the message meant, but Lexa threw back her head and cackled outrageously.

"That old priest! And Indra, she's still sailing these seas?" Lexa was obviously delighted at the news. "Thank you my friend!" she shook Kane's hand vigorously and immediately turned to address her crew. "Today we sail to our lost people!" she shouted victoriously. Exultations of joy arose from the sailors. Clarke witnessed a beaming Octavia, bouncing up and down excitedly, and tugging on her friend's shirt while he smiled happily down at her. Raven was grinning stupidly, off in her own little world. Finn and a few other sailors were prattling off names and talking animatedly. Clarke was sucked into the joy, a huge grin spreading across her face, She didn't know these strangers they were going to meet, but if they were Lexa's family then they damn well were hers too.

Their ship finally moved away from the _Skaikru_. Their holds were loaded down with all manner of treasure taken from the merchant ship, except for a few chests still waiting to be taken down the ladder. Clarke was still burdened with the trunk she had first opened. She wanted to talk to Lexa before she went belowdecks though.

Clarke huffed up the stairs to Lexa and set the trunk down with an _**OOF**_. She flipped her hair out of her face, poofing at the strands that clung to her cheeks. "So, what was that all about?" she asked Lexa breathlessly.

The Captain had her hands on the wheel, gently turning it back and forth. Her eyes were closed and her face was angled towards the sunshine. She looked serene, peaceful, even happy. It was a rare occurrence. Clarke smiled in spite of herself.

"We are going to meet some of my dear friends." Lexa responded, cracking an eye at Clarke.

"Oookay. And what about that little…mishap on the deck? I mean…"

"Just a misunderstanding. Put it out of your mind." Lexa opened her eyes fully and turned to face Clarke. She raked her eyes up and down Clarke's body, obviously liking what she saw. "That necklace really does complement you, Clarke." The way Lexa's silky voice clicked the "k" in her name made heat race through Clarke's body. A red tinge crept into her cheeks.

"Um-uummm, I-I'll be going…now…" She quickly picked up the gold-laden trunk and hefted it in her arms, trying to adjust its weight against her torso.

"Oh, and by the way Clarke…" Lexa winked devilishly, a smirk turning up her full, pouty lips. "That's some treasure _chest_ you've got."

 **Author's Note: Late again, darn it** **Well, you can expect an update every week at least. Blame my lateness on SwanQueen fanfiction, I'm on a binge right now. Also, I hope you liked this chapter! I'm not super experienced at writing romantic or steamy scenes, sooo yeah.**

 **I really want to know what you guys think about my writing though. Is it too bland? Too drawn out or boring, or maybe too fast-paced? Does the story even make sense?-_- I have only you guys to count on for critique of my writing because there's no way I would tell someone I actually** _ **know**_ **that I write Clexa fanfictionXD (They'd think I was a horny teenager!*wink wink*) SO please leave a review and tell me what needs improving. Constructive criticism people! Your wish is my command!:D**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Of Friends and Foes

 **Author's Notes: OMIGOD ITS SO LAAAAATE HEHEHEHE IM TIRED:) I'm sorry this is so late. Spring semester of junior year has been killer. And it's like two AM right now and I just got back from watching Civil War(which was amazing) so I'm kind of delirious but hey….anything for you, my darlings. Anything for you3**

Clarke leaned heavily on the railing of the _Seikru_ and sighed. She gazed out across the calm Caribbean waters, occasionally flicking her eyes up to drag along the plethora of stars twinkling down at her. It had been a few days since their encounter with Captain Kane, and she couldn't get the image of the knife at Lexa's throat out of her head. Lexa had been keeping to her quarters almost all hours of the day, coming out only to murmur orders to Anya and lock eyes with Clarke once or twice.

And Clarke was so, so lonely. Sleep continued to evade her, the hammock unbearably comfortable compared to Lexa's soft furs. Raven had been busy with some secret project even the Captain didn't know about, and Octavia was always snuggling with Lincoln in a corner somewhere.

She scrubbed at the tears that suddenly appeared on her cheeks, angry at her own weakness. A warm night breeze brushed across her face, feeling exactly like a soft hand on her skin. Clarke choked back a sob. "Costia…I-I miss you." She thought back to their midnight conversations about hopes and dreams. Costia had always talked about sailing the seas, saying that it was true freedom. "I'm sailing for you my friend…" Clarke whispered to the night air. Her heart ached, throbbing painfully in her chest, and she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat as more silent tears trekked down her cheeks.

"Clarke?" The blonde turned in surprise, quickly wiping her eyes.

"Lex-Captain. I…um, didn't expect you to be out so late…" She trailed off, a hint of pink coloring her face.

"Why are you crying, Clarke?" Lexa stepped over to her, boot heels clicking against the deck. She had only her flowing white shirt and trademark leather pants on; her bronze shoulders were bare, and her light curls were not even restrained by a bandana. Gold bangles clinked as she leaned on the rail next to Clarke. _Breathtaking._ Clarke thought absently. She sniffled a little.

"I'm just…thinking." She bit her lip at the obvious avoidance.

"About what?" Lexa stretched a hand out and brushed a tear away with her thumb. Clarke almost burst into another bout of crying.

"M-my friend…her name was Costia." Lexa tilted her head to the side, sadness and understanding in her eyes.

"Is she gone, Clarke?"

"Yeah…" The blonde blinked back tears. "She was murdered…just before I came here. She was supposed to come with me…well, I was supposed to go with her." Clarke slapped herself internally. She shouldn't be telling Lexa this. But there was something so trustworthy in those emerald orbs…

"Murdered…why?" Lexa asked softly.

"Because she wanted to…escape." Clarke breathed deeply as the anger began boiling up inside once more. "For her, it was slavery." Lexa gritted her teeth. "For me…an arranged marriage. To the man who killed her." Clarke turned to face the brunette, rage and regret sparking in her eyes. A small gasp escaped Lexa's lips.

"That man…that day, in Port-au-Prince…" Understanding spread across her countenance. "You were running from him?"

"Yes. He shot Costia. And one day…one day I'll make him pay, for everything. For all of the hurt he caused her family. And me."

"Clarke." Lexa took the blonde's hands in her own, earning a surprised squeak from Clarke. They locked eyes, crystal blue piercing into forest green. "I do not think you should pursue such a dark path of revenge. But if we ever come across this man, I will gladly fight by your side." She brought one of Clarke's hands up and kissed it sweetly, her full lips brushing along Clarke's knuckles. The blonde turned a brilliant shade of red.

"Th-thank you…" she sputtered, but did not withdraw her hands. "That means a lot to me." Lexa's lips curved upwards in a smile, still pressed to Clarke's skin. "You know, I was really worried about you…when that sailor had the knife against your throat…" Clarke reached out and lightly brushed her fingertips along the not-quite-healed cut on the Captain's neck. "I was ready to put a couple of rounds in his face, but you seemed to have it under control."

Lexa chuckled, the husky sound sending thrills up Clarke's spine. She leaned forward, so close, her breath brushing past Clarke's ear and sending goosebumps across her flesh. "I'm glad you care about me, Clarke," Lexa whispered. Clarke dazedly registered that their hands were still intertwined. "I care about you too, you know." The Captain murmured, her voice deep and sultry. Clarke's blood was pounding in her ears, and her heart was beating furiously in her ribcage. She thought she was going to explode. Lexa angled her face towards Clarke's and brushed her lips up and down her jaw. Heat shot through Clarke, and she let out a soft gasp.

"Goodnight sailor. Sleep well." Lexa slid away from her and sauntered back to her cabin. Clarke watched her go, her jaw practically resting on the deck.

"What a fucking tease…" Clarke muttered to no one in particular. But really, she was delighted. Because Lexa was there, and she was real, and so was her crew…her family. And Clarke was not alone.

 **Lexa's POV**

"Holy shit holy shit holy shitshitshit…" Lexa paced around and around her cabin, frantically running her fingers through her loose hair. A furious blush painted her cheeks, despite being alone. "What the hell was that Lexa?! That was _Clarke!_ " She wanted to reverse time and redo that whole scene that had just occurred on the deck. But then again, maybe she didn't. "Uuuugh!" She threw herself down on her bed and curled up to one of her pillows. It still smelled faintly of Clarke…like caramel and a hint of sea salt. The phantom sensation of Clarke's jaw on her lips sent sparks of electricity through her. "That was stupid, so fucking stupid, but it was totally worth it…" she squeezed the pillow tighter and squirmed around a little, every bit a lovesick teenager. _Oh god, if my crew could see me now…_ Lexa cringed internally at how they would react to her when every wall was down, all traces of the fearsome pirate captain gone. Right now, she was only Lexa.

She pulled the drawing that Clarke had made from her shirt and unfolded it carefully. She traced the lines of her own visage with her eyes. Clarke was truly a wonderful artist to be able to capture so much detail, right down to the reflection in her eyes. She clutched the page to her chest and sighed contentedly. It was proof that Clarke returned her feelings, if only a little. As was the erratic beating of her heart when Lexa had whispered in her ear…

 _Oh god. Good luck sleeping tonight, you freakin' lovesick fool…_

 **Clarke's POV**

"Haul the main line and tie off the topsail! Get every ounce of speed from her that you can, gentlemen!" Clarke pulled back on the rope, Octavia and another sailor heaving with her. The rough fibers bit into her palms, but she gritted her teeth and pulled harder. Octavia quickly tied it to the belaying pin and Clarke released the rope, letting it go taut on its own.

"Good work, sailor." Octavia panted, heartily slapping Clarke on the back. "You make a fine crewman. Only a few weeks at the mast, and you look like you've been at sea all your life." Clarke grinned at her.

"Thanks, O. You're a good teacher."

"And friend, I hope?" Octavia looked like a kicked puppy.

"Of course!" Clarke engulfed the brunette in a warm hug. The whole crew had become more than friends; they were family. And Clarke understood why they had been so hesitant to let her join them. If some stranger had stowed away on this boat, she would slit their throat immediately. No sense in risking harm to those she held dear. Especially a certain pirate Captain.

 _Speak of the devil_. Lexa strutted towards them. She looked tired; there were light bags under her eyes and her pirate swagger wasn't quite up to par. But she was still drop-anchor gorgeous, of course.

"Lincoln is looking for you." Lexa dismissed Octavia with a wave of her hand, who promptly scrambled to find her strong silent…friend.

"Rough night, Captain?" Clarke winked at the dark-haired beauty. Although, she shouldn't be talking. Their little encounter last night had left Clarke tossing and turning in her uncomfortable hammock as well.

"Yes. It seems you didn't fair any better, however. Still not used to the sailor's quarters?" Lexa stepped just close enough to have Clarke's heart hammering away in her chest once more.

"No, not really." She muttered.

"Ahoy Captain!" Lexa irritatedly looked up at the man on watch, shielding her eyes from the bright Caribbean sun.

"What is it, sailor?"

"Ship ho, off to starboard!" The Captain quickly took out her spyglass and looked out across the waters at the smudge on the horizon.

"It's the _Trikru_!" she exclaimed suddenly, lowering her telescope. Clarke's breath caught in her throat. Exclamations of joy arose from the crew. "Anya, tack towards their position! Full sail ahead!" She tucked away her glass as the crew jumped into action. Clarke did a double-take at the distressed look that crossed her Captain's face.

"What is it?" she carefully laid a hand on Lexa's bronze shoulder. The pirate looked her in the eye.

"It looks like they've had company."

They sailed for quite a while, as the _Trikru_ became bigger and bigger. The atmosphere on board was tense and expectant. By now, the whole crew could see the black marks scarring the hull, and the foremast was completely broken. Wisps of smoke still trailed from the ship, and many of the sails were torn and tattered, but it looked to be in one piece.

"Oh Indra, what have you gotten yourself into?" Lexa murmured. Clarke stood close to her on the upper deck, watching the Captain worry at her bottom lip with her teeth.

"We can help them, Captain." Lexa smiled at her gratefully. The ship was finally near enough that they could see the sailors scurrying about the deck. A cheer rose up from the _Trikru_ as they recognized their sister ship, and Lexa's crew responded in kind. A plank was dropped between the two ships as they pulled up alongside each other.

Clarke watched as an African woman stalked across the plank. She looked quite terrifying; turquoise tattoos were swirled over her skin, she carried more weapons than Clarke could count, and a permanent snarl seemed etched into her face. Lexa stepped forward and clasped arms with the stranger, a slight smile on her face but eyes shining with obvious delight.

"Indra, it is good to see you alive and well."

"Barely." The dark-skinned woman snorted, but returned Lexa's smile. "I am glad you are here Captain. We have had a rough time for the past month."

"Who did this to your crew? What has happened that has left you in such a state?" Lexa gestured angrily to the disrepair of the _Trikru_.

"He has been tracking us for weeks now, shadowing our every move. He never lets up. My crew has been run to the ground from constant evasion, and we have had no time to make repairs." Clarke tilted her head in curiosity.

"Who?" Lexa hissed.

Indra's eyes flicked over to Clarke's then back to Lexa. She sucked in a breath, rage sparking through her eyes.

"Pike."

 **Author's Note:(Do you guys even read these?) Sorry for the little cliffhanger there. The writers of OUAT emotionally traumatized me tonight so I had to cut it off a little early. Gotta take the time to heal my poor shipper heart. I'll do my best to get the next chapter in on time!**

 **P.S Reviews make me squeal in delight!:D**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Of Evasions and Celebrations

 **Author's Note: I-I…. I apologize. I was going to abandon this story, but I reread Celia Reese's** _ **Pirates!**_ **And I had so many new ideas for it, I had to jump back on the Clexa train:D Not that I ever really got off…this chapter may feel a little slow. I have to set up for the bigger events and fluffy romantic Clexa moments that are to come:3**

 **Lexa's POV**

"C'mon gents, let's get the _Trikru_ seaworthy once more!" Lexa stood next to the railing with Indra, hands on her hips, watching the reunited crewmen scurry back and forth to fix the beaten vessel. She turned back to her old friend. "You say Pike has been following you? For how long?"

"Weeks." Indra was obviously weary, but she stood proud and strong, always the fierce captain sworn to protect her crew. "He began trailing us when we left Santo Domingo. We circled around through Mona Pass and tried to lose him in the islands, but he has always been on the horizon. If you look, you will probably see him now." Indra pointed to the crow's nest. Lexa raised her eyebrows and hoisted herself into the rigging. She beckoned for Clarke to follow.

"Who is Pike?" Clarke asked as they picked their way higher up the twined ropes. Lexa had forgotten that Clarke was not a part of her life up until a few weeks ago.

"A dangerous man, a privateer. A hunter. The Navy hires him and his bloodthirsty crew to track down notorious pirates. He has been after us for decades, chasing us back and forth across the Caribbean." Lexa heaved herself into the cramped little nest at the top of the mast.

"And he's never caught you?" Clarke squished in beside her.

Lexa snorted. "He's never even come close. Until now." She raised her slightly charred spyglass to her eye, silently cursing Raven and her reprehensible little apprentices for the millionth time.

"I wonder what changed?" Clarke murmured, almost to herself. Lexa peered intently through the glass, pursing her lips.

"Damn. He is there. And no wonder Indra couldn't shake him-the crew is more than a hundred strong. But those don't look like Pike's men…"

"Could I take a look?" Clarke asked, fidgeting a little. Lexa obligingly handed over the telescope, and used the distraction as an advantage to admire the blonde. She watched the sun play through Clarke's golden locks, and resisted the urge to do the same with her fingers.

Lexa leapt back as the spyglass suddenly slipped from Clarke's fingers. "Hey, watch it! That was almost my foot…. Clarke?" Lexa narrowed her eyebrows in confusion. The girl's mouth was gaped open, her eyes huge.

"It can't be…" Clarke whispered, her face carved into a look of horror.

"What? What did you see Clarke?" Lexa grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her out of her reverie. She was really worried now. She had never seen her like this…had never seen her afraid.

Ocean eyes locked with forest ones. "It's Cage. He's on that ship, those are his men! I knew he would be chasing me, searching for me, but I didn't expect…I mean, to find me so soon…"

Lexa drew the trembling girl into a comforting hug, wanting nothing more than to ease her distress. "Who is Cage?" It was Lexa's turn to ask the questions. But as soon as the words slipped from her mouth, she knew. She already knew.

Clarke choked on her own words, holding tight to Lexa's solid frame. "M-my fiancée."

 **Clarke's POV**

No. No no no no _no_ …. that man was here again. His sinister smiles, his cackles, his screams of rage, they all flooded back to her in a horror-filled deluge. She clutched at Lexa like a lifeline, a solid foundation to hold onto as the man who murdered her friend, her sister, returned to fulfill his promise to kill _her_ in turn. She knew what Cage was capable of. He would hurt her; he would hurt the ones she cared about. _He would hurt Lexa._

"No…" Clarke growled aloud. She shook off her fear like a dog shakes water from its fur. There was no reason to be afraid. She had a real family now; it wasn't just her and Costia. And they were pirates, to boot.

"Clarke?" Lexa squeezed her a little tighter.

"It's okay Lexa, I'm alright." She extricated herself from the brunettes' arms, and the captain immediately backed off, blushing lightly.

"I'm so-"

"Don't apologize Lexa. You gave me the push I needed. I am not afraid of Cage. I am _enraged_ by him. He will not hurt the ones I love." Clarke's eyebrows were narrowed, her lips almost curving into a snarl. She was ready to take him on, be it now or later. A slow, sultry smile spread across the pirate captain's face, and she grasped Clarke's shoulder, looking her in the eyes.

"We'll finish him together." She promised. Clarke smiled gratefully, determination sparkling in her eyes. Lexa. She really, really liked this pirate.

"We should get back to the deck Captain, before the sailors wonder what we're doing up here in this cozy space." Clarke winked and slid a little closer to the brunette. She grinned in delight as Lexa scrambled down the rigging as quick as she could. As long as that woman was around, she could never _not_ be her sassy, fearless self.

Clarke followed her down to the deck. Her boots thumped hard against the sturdy wood.

"Well?" Indra paced up to them. "What did you see? Was he there?"

"Yes, along with some unexpected enemies of Clarke's. His men have doubled Pike's crew; that is why they were able to keep pace with the _Trikru_." Lexa pursed her lips.

Clarke stepped forward. "Even with the help of the _Seikru_ , you wouldn't be able to outrun them. And your ship still needs major repairs before it will be battle-worthy."

Lexa rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Pike won't put into a pirate port, or risk attacking one, even with his new friends. We have a head start on them. If we can make it to Nassau before they overtake us…"

"…we may be able to escape their clutches, for now at least." Clarke finished her thought.

Indra scowled. "So we hide like rats in a hole. How imaginative." She spun one of her pistols in her fingers. "I don't like it one bit. They will blockade Nassau so that we will never have a chance to leave without being caught."

"We will just have to risk that, Indra. There is no other choice."

"There is always another choice, Lexa. I thought Anya taught you better than that! We can fight-"

"And lose most of our family? No. I won't risk my crew's life." Lexa put her hands on her hips and straightened her back, cutting an imposing figure. Clarke immediately blanched at the obvious dominant stance, but Indra only sighed.

"I do not like it. But…. I will trust your decisions, Captain."

"Thank you Indra." Lexa's eyes softened. "Have your men ready to sail by sunset. We will make our dash for Nassau under the cover of night."

"I have my sailors working overtime to patch the ship. We will be ready." Indra turned to Clarke, looking her up and down. Her eyes were passive, but Clarke could tell than she was not liked by the _Trikru_ 's captain. "It seems you have had some escapades of your own while we were parted, Captain Lexa. Who is this girl that has been trailing you like a lost puppy?" Clarke scrunched her nose at Indra's condescending tone, wondering if there was an insult hidden in there somewhere.

"This is Clarke." Lexa caught Clarke's eyes and held them. "She stowed away, but showed resourcefulness, so I allowed her to stay on as a sailor. She has proven herself to be quite the hard worker, and we have accepted her as one of our own." A hint of pink colored Clarke's cheeks, and she tore her gaze away from the captain.

"A stowaway? A spy is more likely. How can we be sure she is not just helping her 'enemies' on board Pike's ship? She may be the cause-"

"She has proven her trustworthiness, Indra." Anya stalked towards them, eyes cold. "And I have accepted her. Do not pester them unnecessarily." Clarke beamed at Lexa's mentor. Despite her terrifying demeanor, she was really growing fond of Anya.

"Lexa, Titus calls for you. Perhaps you should go introduce Clarke to the rest of the _Trikru_ people. We will head for Nassau soon, but now is a time for celebration. Go catch up with your family." Lexa smiled gratefully at her mentor and beckoned Clarke to follow. Indra huffed and crossed her arms, but did not protest further. Anya turned to her, and they began talking quietly as the girls headed for the trapdoor.

Lexa and Clarke climbed down into the murky hold. Sunlight filtered through cracks between slats of wood that needed to be tarred. Despite that, there was little to illuminate the hold. "Jeez, I can't see a thing down here…" Clarke strained her eyes to focus in the dim light. "Eeep!" She squeaked as warm fingers wove themselves into her own. Lexa chuckled, and Clarke saw her green eyes glint a little in the darkness.

"Don't worry, I won't let you get lost." It seemed like a fire had started where their hands connected, and it slowly burnt its way up Clarke's arm and spread through her body. She shivered a little at the wonderful feeling of the captain's skin on her own. The slapped herself internally. _Now is not the time, Clarke!_

They wove their way through the hold, hearing rather than seeing sailors scurrying this way and that, with buckets of tar and carpentry tools swinging and clinking in their hands. Lexa led Clarke through a doorway and into a large secluded area, with a few scattered lanterns sitting on barrels. Many people sat around the lanterns, cupping mugs of rum and talking quietly amongst themselves. A tall, bald man with flowing robes and tribal-like tattoos noticed them.

"Captain Lexa!" He boomed. All of the people looked up curiously, conversations hushed. The silence was deafening. Clarke was glad the darkness hid her blush as all of the eyes centered on her and Lexa.

"Titus. It is good to see you again." Lexa looked around, meeting the gaze of every person. She smiled happily. "And it is good to be home." They all stood and cheered, smiling and laughing and welcoming the brunette.

"Captain!"

"Welcome home, cap'n."

"A drink tah ye, Captain Lexa!" They raised their mugs, clanking them together, celebrating with boisterous laughter and cheer. Lexa went among them, smiling, talking loudly, and introducing Clarke. Clarke shyly said hello to all of the welcoming faces. She was amazed at how familiar and confident Lexa was. She was also quite embarrassed; the pirate had not dropped her hand. When Clarke tried to pull away, she only gripped tighter.

Lexa led them over to the bald man from before. "Titus, this is Clarke. Clarke, Titus. He is, well, our priest I suppose." Lexa pondered her own description of the man.

"Clarke. It is good to meet you." The hulking man shook Clarke's hand firmly. He carried a moldy book under his arm, and his clothes reeked of saltwater. A few piercings protruded from his ears and nose, and the tattoos around his head gave him a slightly frightening appearance. The blonde blanched a little at the ice in his eyes.

"Don't worry." Lexa chuckled. "He may look terrifying, but he is just here to save our souls. Isn't that right?"

"You should not joke about it, captain." He huffed. "Leading the life of a heathen pirate will send your souls to the devil! Each hoard you steal, every life you take, is another eternity of suffering!" His hands swished in the air and his voice boomed above the chatter of the others. Lexa laughed and patted his arm. "We know, Titus. We know." Lexa continued speaking with various crewmen. Clarke looked around. She recognized a lot of people. Finn was chatting it up with fellow swabbies, by the looks of it. Octavia and Lincoln were over in a corner with Indra, who had joined them not too long ago. Jasper and Monty were showcasing some of their inventions to a blonde girl Clarke did not recognize, and Murphy was arm wrestling Gustus (and losing horribly) while a large group of sailors pounded their rum on the barrels and bet gold coins on the winner. Clarke noticed Raven hidden a little from everyone else. A sandy-haired woman was bent over her, tinkering with the brace on her leg as Raven prattled away. A faint blush came over the master gunner's cheeks every time the woman looked up at her.

Clarke thought she recognized the woman from somewhere. She couldn't see her face, but maybe…no. No, it-it wasn't possible! Was it?

"Mother…" she whispered. The woman glanced up and looked around, as if she had heard Clarke over the talking of the sailors. Tears sprang to Clarke's eyes as she recognized the face that had kissed her a final goodbye so long ago. "Mother!" she cried out, tearing her hand from Lexa's and racing toward the woman.

"Clarke?" Abby's eyes widened hugely as the blonde slid to a stop next to her and hugged her fiercely.

"Mom!" Clarke choked, fighting back her tears. She couldn't cry in front of these sailors, even if it was her mother. "I-I missed you a l-lot…" Abby hesitantly wrapped her arms around her daughter.

Lexa stepped towards them. "Abby?" A questioning look lingered in her eyes. "Clarke is your daughter?" Lexa bit her lip as Clarke released her mother to look up at the captain. She wondered at the almost guilty look on Lexa's face.

"Y-yes. She is my daughter. Clarke!" Abby brushed some golden strands out of the blonde's face. "How are you here? How have you come back to me?" she squeezed her in a warm hug again.

"I don't even know, mom. It was everything, it was that whole plantation, Jake, just everything…it, well, it's really complicated." She looked into her mom's warm brown eyes. "I just knew I had to find something better." Abby smiled at her daughter, smoothing her hand down the blonde waves, looking every bit a proud mother. The sailors cheered once more, excited for yet another reason to celebrate. Mugs clinked again, and the rum ran freely.

Clarke and Abby laughed together as they watched a drunken sailor collapse against a stack of barrels, then immediately reach for another mug of the potent drink. Clarke was ecstatic. It was as if Abby had never left; their relationship picked up right where they had left off, mother and daughter once more.

Raven cleared her throat in the background.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry Raven…" Abby flushed, returning to her work on the girl's leg.

"It's alright Doc." The dark-haired girl winked at the flustered woman. "I didn't mind the view."

Clarke looked back and forth between them, eyebrows disappearing into her hairline. A knowing smirk flitted across her features, but she knew it'd be best to let them be. She proceeded to change the subject.

"Mom, you're a doctor?" Abby laughed.

"Wouldn't you believe it? After I left your father, I realized that I really wanted to help people. And I'm damn good at it."

"I'll say." Raven piped up. "Worth her weight in diamonds, this woman is. You need to come aboard the _Seikru_ for a season, Abby. We could use a little more of your charm…" she grinned.

"And a little less of yours!" Abby lightly slapped her shoulder. She turned back to Clarke. "Speaking of Jake, you mentioned him. Tell me why you left Jamaica. What did he do?"

Clarke sighed. "It's a long story, but basically, he married me off to Cage Wallace and I ran." Abby's face twisted into disgust.

"Your father was a good man once, but he has been lost to greed. And I knew those Wallace men were evil as soon as I laid eyes on them. How did you escape? And how did you get on Captain Lexa's ship? That's a daring feat in and of itself!" She chuckled.

"I escaped with the help of a friend." Clarke's heart gave a sharp pang of despair for Costia. "But they killed her." Abby wrapped her daughter in a warm embrace. Clarke missed her mother dearly; she missed her comfort, the smell and feel of her. Even a hug healed her heart a little and made her feel better.

"And I stowed away on Lexa's ship while running from Cage. I held onto the side of the ship for hours, so she let me stay, obviously." Clarke gave a pained grin as she remembered the grueling hours spent on the side of the _Seikru._

"Ah, ever the resourceful young lioness!" Abby beamed proudly. "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too, mom."

"Clarke." The blonde released her mother as Lexa walked up to them. "It is time to return to the _Seikru._ We should rest while we can and prepare to sail for Nassau." The captain nodded to the doctor in acknowledgement.

"I'll see you soon honey." Abby planted a kiss on her daughter's forehead. For a minute Clarke was desperate to not leave her mother, fearing that she would lose her once again. But Lexa's soft presence and her mother's reassurance washed away her fear.

000oo000ooo000ooo000ooo

Clarke shifted in her hammock once again. The evening sun was just beginning to sink toward the horizon, and scudding pink and orange clouds drifted peacefully across the sky. They had only a couple hours left before they set sail, and she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. The canvas was just too rough, too scratchy. Her mind whirled with thoughts of Cage, of her mother, of Nassau. Mostly she thought of Lexa. She sighed deeply and climbed out of the hammock. She must be insane.

Ever so quietly, Clarke slipped on her boots and ninja-walked through the slumbering pirates and up to the deck. She slipped easily past Murphy, who was on watch tonight, and made her way to the Captain's quarters.

 **Lexa's POV**

She buried her face into her soft pillow and groaned. Clarke, Clarke, Clarke, that cursed blonde was all she ever thought about. A true siren, leaving her sleepless, restless, plaguing her mind. She could picture her right now, sleeping peacefully, her golden hair splayed over the white canvas. Maybe she would shift in her sleep. Maybe she would speak her dreams aloud. Maybe Lexa could go and lie next to her, curled up into her warm body, twining her arms around her waist, pressing her lips against-

A soft knocking jerked her from her thoughts. She slid out of bed, clad only in her pants and white shirt, and padded over to the door.

A huge blush flooded over her cheeks as she opened it to reveal the very woman who had just occupied her thoughts. "C-Clarke. Ahem. Did you need something?" Lexa stuttered.

Clarke stepped forward. "Yeah. You. Er, your…. bed." She bit her lip. Lexa gaped at her, speechless. "I need your bed, I mean!" Clarke stumbled over her words, blushing furiously. "To sleep. Because I can't, in my hammock, you know? Finer things?"

"Oh!" Lexa hastily opened the door wider, beckoning her in. "Of course! Yeah, sure, totally…" Both girls chuckled nervously. Clarke went over on sat on Lexa's bed, kicking her boots off and sliding under the furs. She breathed in deeply, letting the captain's scent envelop her. Lexa stood awkwardly to the side.

"You can come lay next to me, ya know. You don't have to just stand there." Clarke peered at her from under the covers. Lexa blushed once more. She inwardly cursed herself for being so weak in front of this woman.

"O-Okay." She went over to the other side of the bed and scooted under the covers, sitting rigidly upright, as close to the edge as possible. Clarke sat up as well, pulling out her sketchbook and a pencil. She began drawing the many candles flickering around Lexa's rooms. The pirate captain watched her with interest, a comfortable silence settling between them. She remembered the drawing Clarke had done of her that one day, how it had fluttered down to her from the yardarms, the blonde desperately chasing after it. She put her hand over the spot where it was still tucked into her shirt.

Clarke broke the silence. "Do you do anything artistic, Lexa?" she looked up at the brunette, eyes twinkling.

"The only artistic thing I think about doing is you."

…..

Lexa physically put her face in her hands and groaned out loud as Clarke howled with laughter, almost tumbling off the bed. Why couldn't she just keep her clumsy pirate mouth shut?

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" Clarke was crying at this point, desperately trying to breathe through the fits of giggles that wracked her frame. She wiped her tears away and grinned hugely at the captain. Lexa peeked up at her through her fingers, her face flushed with embarrassment.

"You know Lexa, you are secretly adorable under your tough pirate exterior." Clarke winked at her and patted herself down, looking for something.

Adorable. She had called her adorable. Lexa felt as if she were floating on fluffy white cotton ball clouds.

"Ah, here it is." Clarke produced a flask and took a swig, then offered it to Lexa. "Drink? I think you might need to relax a little." Clarke eyeballed her stiff posture.

Lexa's eyes widened at the sight of the flask. She swiped it from the blonde's hands, examining the tribal swirls on the front and the initials, L.W., on the bottom. "Where did you get this?" she whispered.

Clarke furrowed her brow. "I found it on the beach at my father's plantation, in Jamaica. Why?"

"This is mine." Lexa looked over at her, sea-green eyes huge. "I lost this to the sea years ago. To think that you were the one to find it…" she trailed off, rubbing her thumb across the markings.

"How do you know? I can keep it, right?" Clarke gave the brunette her best puppy eyes. Lexa smiled.

"Of course you can keep it, hehe. I know because of the initials on the bottom. Lexa Waters. And this…." She set the flask down and pushed her right sleeve up past her shoulder. Clarke leaned forward and gasped at the tattoo, identical to the swirls carved into the silver. "Anya did it for me. The tattoo and the engraving." Lexa murmured. She sucked in a breath as Clarke reached out and traced the ink on her bicep, her fingers leaving fiery trails along her skin. She closed her eyes and relished the feeling. Clarke continued tracing the tattoo as she spoke.

"You know Lexa, you make being an artist hard."

The brunette opened her eyes and looked at the blonde, bewildered. "What? Why?"

"Because I could never create something as beautiful as you." Clarke gazed at her, her eyes unfathomable. Lexa bit her lip, eyes sparkling. She finally relaxed her stiffness, shifting herself closer to the artist and snuggling down into the furs. Clarke did the same. They twined their fingers together between them, cerulean orbs locking with sea green ones. "Goodnight Captain."

Lexa squeezed Clarke's hand. "Goodnight _ai niron, ai gona._ "

 **Author's Note: I love my lovelies. Review:3 I won't abandon this story, I promise. Not this time. Will update sooner rather than later. Stay tuned. I'm so excited to be writing again!**

 **P.S Meanings of those^ last words in the next chapter. Don't look them up and spoil it for yourself**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Of Ports and Pleasures

 **Author's Note: I'm not pulling this out of my ass, but I don't have it all planned out either. If there are plot holes ya'll are just gonna have to deal. BTW THANK YOU SO MUCH for leaving awesome reviews within the hour that I put up Chapter 11!3**

 **Oh also, remind me not to read non-con fics, because I really don't enjoy them but I forgot because I've only read one. Well, two now** **So prepare for fluffy feel-better Clexa!:D**

 **Clarke's POV**

Clarke blinked sleepily as a sharp sound cut through her dreams. Raven's muffled voice came with the sound.

"Captain!" The harsh knock resounded again. "Night has fallen. The crew awaits your orders." Clarke listened as the woman's footsteps trailed away.

It was only then that her eyes focused on the tan skin in front of her, the soft contours of a throat trailing down to meet a collarbone partially hidden by thick brown hair. As the last dregs of sleep finally left her, she stifled a minor panic attack, realizing where she was.

Subconsciously or not, Lexa and she had moved closer during the few hours they were asleep. Closer was a gross understatement, however. Clarke's face was nestled in the crook of Lexa's neck, her arms curled between their bodies and her hands resting under her chin. Clarke could feel strong arms encircling her waist, and legs twined around her own. She felt the soft _whoosh_ of Lexa's breath through her hair.

She felt Lexa's arms tighten around her waist as she shifted the tiniest bit. Clarke tilted her head to look up at the pirate captain. Those same green eyes she had captured every day since she set foot on the deck on the _Seikru_ twinkled down at her.

"Good morning…" she murmured, blushing at their proximity, at her traitorous sleeping body, at how Lexa was so _close_ …

"I think you mean good evening." Lexa chuckled, flicking her eyes to the moonlight glinting off of the waves outside the cabin windows. Clarke hummed and squirmed impossibly closer to the captain, inhaling her spicy, exotic scent. She was so warm, so comfortable, she could drop back off to sleep at any second. She sighed.

"Lexa…we should go." Clarke drew herself from the captain's arms, sitting up in the bed. She ran a hand through her disheveled hair, trying to untangle it.

 **Lexa's POV**

When she had woken, Lexa had thought there was an angel in her arms. Even after she realized it was Clarke, she still saw an angel. They disentangled and sat up. She watched as the blonde ran a hand through her wavy golden locks. Lexa looked sideways at her, eyes widening as she noticed Clarke's shirt. The top had come undone in the night, and the billowy white material was opened to expose Clarke's entire torso. Lexa's eyes trailed down hungrily, tracing over the hollow of her throat where the sapphire necklace wrapped around it, skipping across her collarbone, past the wrappings that hid her chest and down her toned stomach to the low waistband of her pants. Lexa desperately wanted to run her hands down the blonde's body and press her lips to that silky skin, tanned from weeks in the sun. She flicked her eyes back up to Clarke's face.

The artist was staring at her, blushing a light pink as the pirate drank her in. "Um…" Clarke bit her lip, but made no move to fix her shirt.

Lexa refused to look away, capturing the blonde's eyes with her own and pinning her there. The energy from when she had placed that necklace on Clarke in the _Skaikru_ 's hold so many weeks ago began charging the air once more. It practically hummed, coiling around them like a snake, intoxicating. The pirate captain ran her tongue over her bottom lip and leaned forward, reaching for Clarke. She slid her hands around her waist, under her shirt, savoring the feel of satin skin under her fingertips. The blonde did not move, her pupils blown wide, her lips slightly parted and her breath coming in short little pants. Lexa pulled the blonde flush against her, smirking when she felt Clarke's heartbeat pounding away in her chest.

She gently brushed her lips up and down Clarke's jaw, reminding her of that one night on the deck, while the energy swarmed around them like electricity. Clarke shivered and brought her hands up to thread through Lexa's thick hair. She gasped as the pirate's tongue slowly swiped a line of fire just under her jaw. Lexa smiled against her hot skin, relishing the reactions she was getting from the flustered artist.

The faintest whisper from the blonde reached her ears.

"Tease…"

Lexa dug her fingernails into Clarke's lower back. Clarke hissed and arched into the pirate; Lexa took the opportunity to finally plant her lips on the ones she had craved since the beginning. Clarke immediately returned the kiss. Lexa's tongue darted past the blonde's lips and she took control immediately, stifling a moan when she tasted the sweet caramel and sea-salt flavor of her. Clarke knotted her hands in the brunette's hair and whimpered, pulling herself impossibly closer.

"Well _well_."

The two girls lurched back from each other in a panic, Clarke almost toppling off the bed.

"I wondered what was taking you so long, captain." Raven leaned against the door frame, grinning hugely, eyes brimming with barely controlled laughter. Lexa directed her iciest glare at the master gunner, while Clarke fumbled to re-tie her shirt, red as a tomato. "By all means, don't let me stop you, I just wanted to let you know that Indra is getting impatient." Raven held up her hands in surrender to her captain, smirking, and backed out of the cabin.

"Damnit." Lexa gritted her teeth; the moment was broken, and the heated energy had dissipated. She dejectedly slid herself off the bed and began pulling on her boots and jacket. Clarke scrambled from the bed and did the same. Both girls were quiet, the unresolved tension like a stifling blanket over the cabin. Lexa finally finished donning her accessories, tucking her cutlass into her belt. She strutted over to Clarke, who was standing next to the wall awkwardly, waiting for her. They stood there for a moment, the silence permeating the air. Lexa bit her lip, then reached out and gently pushed the flustered girl against the wall.

"You're really distracting, ya know." The captain whispered against Clarke's neck, brushing her lips against her pounding pulse. "Wherever I go, there you are. Sitting on the yardarms staring at me, hovering near me, _sleeping in my bed_. I can't get you out of my head. I haven't had a decent night's rest since the first time you slept in my quarters…until last night." Lexa slid her hands up Clarke's arms, across her shoulders and up her neck, and finally tangled her long fingers in the silky blonde hair.

" _Stop distracting me._ " She whispered harshly against her neck. Clarke shivered, trapped between the captain's slender figure and the solid wood of the hull. She yelped as the captain bit down on her neck just enough to leave a sizable mark. Lexa swiped her tongue over the mark to soothe it, then pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Clarke's lips before releasing her. She let out an amused chuckle at the disheveled appearance of her sailor, and laced their fingers together.

"Accompany me to the helm?" She was ready to burst with happiness as the blonde smiled her assent and squeezed her hand, a blush still coloring her cheeks.

 **Clarke's POV**

 _She's distracted by me. This fearsome yet soft pirate captain is DISTRACTED by ME!_ Clarke stifled a squeal of delight at the prospect of Lexa always thinking of her. When they emerged on the deck still holding hands, a few of the crewmen gave them questioning stares. Clarke self-consciously pulled up the collar of her jacket to hide the hickey on her neck. Lexa didn't seem to notice, or didn't care about, the curious glances directed their way. She merely tightened her grip on the blonde's hand as she led them up to the wheel.

"Captain. We're ready to make sail at your command." Anya silently appeared next to them, her trademark glare directed at no one in particular.

"How close are Pike and Cage?"" Lexa turned to her.

"Minutes away, Captain." Clarke blanched how near her friend's murderer was getting.

"Is Indra ready to make way?"

"She signaled not two minutes ago."

"Then give the order."

Anya's voice boomed out over the deck like a foghorn. "Weigh anchor and haul the lines! Draw up full sail and head for Nassau! We'll outrun these milk-livered maggots, or it'll be your heads!" Clarke released Lexa's hand and scrambled to join the sailors in the rigging.

She did her best to not be distracting.

Clarke could see Pike's ship looming close in the starlight; far too close for comfort. They must be working their sailors to the bone to have come so far in a couple of hours. She didn't look for too long; she was terrified of spotting that familiar dark hair and his soulless, enraged eyes. So unlike Lexa's eyes, which were fierce and just and carried a hidden warmth.

The Trikru followed close behind them, a mere plank's length separating the hulls. The two ships moved as one, seemingly gaining speed from each other and slicing through the water with astonishing swiftness.

The night wore on. The moon occasionally broke through the cloud cover, and each time Clarke looked back to see the privateer ship inching closer and closer. Each time it spurred her even faster; relentless, restless sailors toiled alongside her in the night. It seemed endless. She worked and worked, hauling rope, scurrying about in the rigging, hoisting the sails ever higher. Her body grew exhausted from running on the constant adrenaline. Her vision grew hazy after awhile, and she wasn't sure what was real and what was not. She thought she saw Raven in a corner of the deck, making strange… _things_ out of shells and string and gunpowder. And once when she grew dizzy from fatigue and almost toppled over, Lexa's warm arms held her up and she whispered sweetly to her.

"Just a little longer, Clarke, _ai niron, ai gona_." That was the second time Lexa had said those foreign words to her. She had to remember to ask the captain what they meant.

Finally, the lookout crowed in triumph from his nest at the top of the mast. "I see it! I see Nassau on the horizon!"

 _ **BOOOM.**_ It took them all a moment to comprehend the sound of the canon before it crashed through the port side, pulverizing the railing and jerking the sailors from their reverie.

" _All hands on deck!_ " Lexa's voice echoed across the ship. "Hoist the main topsail and run out the oars! It's time to get to rowing lads!" The ace up their sleeve; the long oars that could be run through the gunports. They were on the home stretch, and it was time to sprint for the finish.

"Cap'n! What about the _Trikru_?" As if in response to the sailor, the _Trikru_ raced up alongside them and began pulling ahead, her oars swiftly gliding through the waves like dolphins.

"Last crew to Nassau buys the first drinks!" Indra's challenge echoed across the water from the deck of the ship. The crew shouted in a mixture of excitement and panic as another boom of a canon followed her words. The sister ships dashed through the water like twin sea serpents, and soon the threat of the canons disappeared as Pike's ship lagged. The port lights of Nassau beckoned.

Finally, Clarke watched through bleary eyes as the privateer ship turned away. Lexa had been right; they wouldn't dare attack a pirate port. No doubt they would lie in wait for their quarry to emerge from their hole. But with limited supplies on board, they couldn't wait forever. Lexa stood at the helm, firmly gripping the wheel and smiling down at her cheering crew. Clarke grinned at the brilliance of her captain.

 _Her_ captain.

 **Author's Note: I'm sorry it's so short, and late, but Word wouldn't let me do anything because I hadn't bought it yet, and then I had to rewrite half the chapter because I wrote serious angst and I hated it. Also Skyrim. I promise the next chapter will be longer and better; I hope ya'll enjoyed my not-quite-smut though:3**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Of Laughter and Love-Making

 **Author's Note: I'm legit trash for doctormechanic, sorry if that's not your cup of tea. Oh, we are all in the dumpster for Clexa thoughXD Heck, at this point, the Clexa fandom is just a giant landfill.**

 **Also…*creepy pirate whisper*…** _ **Tortuga**_ **….**

Clarke slouched against the railing of the ship. The lapping of the waves against the hull soothed her frazzled nerves, and the excited murmurings of the crew provided a comforting background noise to the sudden peace that pervaded the ship. Faint music drifted across the water from the port, and its numerous lights twinkled and beckoned to the weary sailors.

They finally pulled into the dock, throwing heavy lines of rope around the wooden poles to secure the ship. Lexa stepped up to the fidgeting, silent crew that awaited her orders.

She stood in front of them, hands on her hips, looking at each sailor in turn. Her voice was a low, mischievous timbre as she spoke.

"Back by high noon." She waved her hand dismissively. "Have fun." Clarke laughed and quickly stepped out of the way as the cheering mass of crewmen stampeded down the gangplank. They joined Indra's sailors on the stone wharf, and teetered off to various inns and taverns to make the most of their night, already singing and laughing boisterously.

Clarke turned to smile at her Abby walking up to her.

"Are you alright honey?" Abby smoothed Clarke's hair away from her face. "It gave me quite the scare when we heard those cannon shots."

"I'm alright, mom. Just a little worn out." Clarke smiled tiredly at her mother.

"Well, I'm sure a few mugs of rum ought to fix that." Abby laughed at the bewildered look on her daughter's face. "Oh, did you think I was going to tell you to stay away from those sinner's holes? You're a grown woman, Clarke, and a pirate to boot. You don't need me to tell you what to do." Abby leaned forward and kissed her daughter's hair. "I'm just sorry I wasn't there to guide you through your teenage years. I…I just abandoned you…and I regret it every day." She let her hand drop, and covered her eyes with the back of her arm.

"Mom!" Clarke grabbed Abby's hand and clasped it in hers, smiling brightly despite her misty eyes. "You don't have to feel bad about anything. I don't blame you at all. I'm just glad you're here now." She wrapped her mother in a firm hug, both women sighing deeply with contentment.

"I'm glad too." Abby whispered. She drew back and wiped her teary eyes. "Now go have fun! I daresay we all deserve it after a night like this." She winked slyly at the blonde. "Go have a few drinks with the captain!"

" _Mom._ " Clarke lightly slapped her mother's arm, blushing lightly. Oh, but she had the perfect revenge material, and that material was currently lingering next to the gangplank, awaiting a certain surgeon…

"Alright, I'll hang out with Lexa…but that means _you_ have to challenge the master gunner to a drinking contest!" Clarke cackled as Abby reeled back, scoffing.

"Y-you mean _Raven_? No, no I couldn't…th-that…that wouldn't….I mean…" Abby sputtered. Clarke smirked and grabbed her by the shoulders, gently propelling her toward where the girl in question waited. "See you in the tavern, mom!" she pushed the doctor into a flustered Raven and pranced away, grinning.

She pranced right into the captain. "L-Lexa! Ehehe, sorry…" she chuckled nervously as Lexa looked her up and down.

"Clarke." The captain smiled, her sea green eyes sparkling like the sun on the water. "Join me for a drink?" she held out her arm.

"Well…sure. Yeah I'll join you." Clarke linked her arm in Lexa's, and together they sashayed down the gangplank and onto the wooden dock. Their footsteps fell into unison as they meandered their way through the port.

Clarke had seen other ports, but it was always fleeting, from the window of a carriage or on a stormy night. Or running away from a murderous fiancée. Seeing a pirate port now, on a clear night, was like a waking dream. And the captain linked to her arm made it even more unreal.

Clarke closed her eyes and tilted her head back, breathing in deeply the warm, salty air. It reminded her of her plantation, and when she had always looked out the window towards the sea, hoping for something better. When Lexa's spicy scent mingled with the breeze, she smiled. Yes, she had found something better. She opened her eyes. Light, laughter, and music poured out of tavern windows. Clarke smiled hugely as a group of rowdy pirates began singing a shanty, their arms wrapped around each other, teetering back and forth in time to the tune.

 _It's all for me grog, me jolly, jolly grog,_

 _All gone for beer and tobacco._

 _Spent all me tin on the lassies drinking gin,_

 _And across the western ocean I must wander!_

 _Where are me boots, me noggy noggy boots,_

 _They've all gone for beer and tobacco!_

 _The leathers' kicked about and the soles all worn out,_

 _And my toes are looking out for better weather!_

 _Where is me shirt, me noggy noggy shirt,_

 _It's all gone for beer and tobacco!_

 _The collar's worn out and the front is kicked about,_

 _And my tails are looking out for better weather._

 _I feel sick in the head and I haven't been to bed,_

 _Since first I came ashore with me plunder!_

 _I see centipedes and snakes and I'm full of pains and aches,_

 _And I think that I should push out o'er yonder!_

The sailors clanked their mugs together, froth spilling over the tops, and cheered as the fiddlers struck up another tune. Clarke suddenly felt herself being pulled toward the tavern.

"Wait, we aren't going in there?!" she dug her heels into the cobblestones, but Lexa was having none of it.

"You promised me a drink, Clarke! And this is the wildest place in Nassau. There's no way we're _not_ going in here!" She laughed wickedly and dragged Clarke through the doors. None of the pirates gave them a second glance as the captain unceremoniously pulled the blonde over to the bar.

"Alright, alright!" Clarke plopped herself on one of the benches, pouting. Lexa slid onto the bench next to her and hailed down the bartender.

"Captain Lexa!" he exclaimed. "Ain't seen ye here for a few months. T'ought that privateer had finally caught up to ye!"

"Oh Hawkins, you know that cod-paste would wet his britches if he came face-to-face with me." Lexa waved her hand dismissively. The man guffawed; he had clearly had a few tankards himself.

"Captain, yer still the young spitfire I met durin' my pirating years! Who is yer friend here?" He grinned, showing off fairly clean teeth for an ex-pirate.

"Clarke." The blonde in question stuck out her hand and they shook firmly.

"A firm pirate's grip you got there, lass. New to Cap'n Lexa's crew, I suppos'?"

"A stowaway that I decided to keep." Lexa cut in smirking. Clarke did her best to hide her blush, and Hawkins laughed boisterously.

"Ah cap'n, ye be breakin' many young lad's hearts everywhere ye goes, when they find out exactly which way ye lean!" his kind eyes twinkled merrily. "What can I do fer ye lassies?"

"Just the usual, Hawkins." Lexa slid a few coins over the counter. The portly pirate scooped them up, and they disappeared into one of the many pockets stitched onto his filthy apron. "Comin' ri' up." He briskly walked off to get the drinks.

Clarke twiddled her thumbs, feeling awkward. She could feel Lexa's eyes all over her, and she did her best not to fidget under her heated gaze. She looked around, taking in the sights and sounds (but not the smells) of the tavern. Fiddlers and an accordionist played a bawdy tune in the corner. A large fire blazed in the huge brazier against the back wall, warming the room to a comfortable temperature. Pirates lounged on tables, benches, and barrels throughout the room; they were loud and boisterous as they drank away their troubles and gambled away their cut of their ships' spoils. She spotted members of the _Seikru_ in various spots around the tavern, glad to see them enjoying themselves. She turned her attention back to the bar and traced invisible patterns in the wood grain with her finger.

Lexa leaned over and murmured in her ear. "You're being distracting again, Clarke." The blonde huffed and threw up her hands in defeat. Lexa laughed and scooted her stool closer to Clarke's. She reached out and trailed her fingers over Clarke's hand and slowly up her arm, smirking mischievously. _Oh, hell._

Clarke released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as Hawkins plopped two mugs down in front of them, and Lexa withdrew her hand. The blonde eagerly grabbed her drink and chugged down half of it before the bartender had moved a foot. She slammed her tankard down and licked the froth from her lips, sighing gratefully as the powerful drink warmed her stomach and left her feeling fuzzily content.

Only then did she notice Lexa gaping at her. "What?" she raised an eyebrow at the dark-haired woman.

"I... I…" Lexa cleared her throat. "I didn't really peg you as a girl who could hold her rum, ehehe." She took a swig of her own drink and giggled. _Wait, did she just giggle?_ Clarke stared hard at the captain. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and her bangles clinked as she self-consciously ran her fingers through her hair. She took a few more solid gulps from the cup.

"Lexa…can _you_ hold your rum?"

"Ehehehe no!" The captain hiccupped a little. "I can't hold it at allll…." She sang, taking another long drink from the mug. Clarke's eyebrows disappeared into her hair. "But _you_ …*hic*…can definishly hold your rum. Ssee, you're doing it right now." Lexa wiggled her fingers to where Clarke firmly gripped her drink and laughed boisterously.

"Wow…I'm assuming Anya is the one who normally gets you back onto the ship after a night in the tavern, right?" Clarke now knew why she had never seen the Captain have more than a sip of rum while she was on duty. Only half a tankard and she seemed ready to collapse.

"Yeesshh, tha's true. But sheesh no fun. You are fun, Clarke." Lexa slid off her stool, abandoning her drink, and slid her arms around Clarke's neck. "Dance with me, Clarke." She whispered, burrowing her face into the blonde's neck. Clarke was momentarily stunned by the captain's wanton behavior, but quickly recovered. She slid off her own stood and supported the inebriated captain in her arms.

"Lexa, I don't think…"

"Noooooo, please dance…Clarke." Clarke's willpower shattered as the captain looked up at her, 100% puppy mode, all wide eyes and pouty lips.

"Oh, damn me to hell…" Clarke muttered, and pulled the brunette into a more open area of the room. The musicians struck up a livelier tune, and the two pirates began whirling around each other, skipping to the beat of the music. Clarke grinned, the music infecting her and lifting her spirits. The alcohol she had consumed took full effect, and her insecurities disappeared into the stamping of boots and clapping of hands. Lexa threw back her head and laughed loudly as they spun. Clarke was worried that she would topple completely over if she let go of the captain.

Others began to dance around them, and the sounds of the tavern increased to a dull roar, the music growing ever louder and faster. Random brawls broke out around them, and Clarke began to hear glass shattering and the thud of fists against faces. Still, they whirled round and round; in the flurry of bodies and bottles, Clarke glimpsed Finn hanging from the chandelier a story above them.

Clarke suddenly felt hands on her. Hands that were definitely not Lexa's.

"Hey there, pretty thing. How'd you like to come upstairs with me and-"

"Don't touch me!" Clarke snarled and shoved the man away. He stumbled back into his buddies, rum sloshing over the lip of his mug.

"I'm gonna have your guts for garbage, cabin girl!" he sneered. The sailor grabbed the front of her shirt and punched, splitting Clarke's lip before tossing her onto the ground. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll wish you hadn't rejected me!"

The blade of a cutlass protruded from his chest. He looked down at it bewilderedly. "Oh." Lexa planted her boot on the sailors' back and yanked her blade free, her face carved from stone. Clarke wiped the blood from her mouth, trembling slightly. Lexa then rounded on the sailor's buddies, who quickly threw their hands up in surrender and scrambled for the door. The rest of the tavern's guests either didn't notice or didn't care about the dead sailor.

Clarke quickly tried to hide the tears pooling in her eyes as Lexa sheathed her blade and bent down to help her. She had never been punched in the face before; it hurt more than she had thought it would. Lexa pulled her from the filthy tavern floor and led her over to a quiet corner next to the fire. Clarke had forgotten, for more than a moment, the ruthlessness of pirates. Not just pirates, but Lexa. Her reputation preceded her, after all.

"Looks like you sobered up quickly." Clarke smiled, but bent her head down to hide her still teary eyes.

"You were in danger." Lexa placed her fingers under the blonde's chin and gently lifted her face to the light. She whipped out a handkerchief and dabbed at Clarke's eyes and lip.

"Thank you." Clarke winced a little at the pressure on her lip.

Lexa smiled hesitantly. "You're welcome."

The mood of the tavern had died down, and many of the seamen slowly began trickling out. Clarke scooted closer to the fire, lavishing in its warmth. "You know I killed a man the night before I stowed away on your ship." Lexa's head snapped up in astonishment. Clarke chuckled at her reaction. "Some thugs in Port-au-Prince snuck up on me. I had just rowed into the port and was walking along the wharf looking for a place to stay when they jumped me. I killed one and injured another. The rest ran." She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling nothing but regret.

"It is not your fault, Clarke. You were defending yourself."

"Is that what you tell yourself when you kill, Lexa?" Clarke was angry, with herself. Seeing Lexa kill the sailor had brought back those horrible feelings she had, when she killed the thug, when she saw Costia murdered, when she saw the suffering of the people working the plantations…. her plantation.

"You think our ways are harsh." Lexa murmured. She hesitantly brought her hand up to cup Clarke's cheek. "But it's how we survive. You defended yourself. I defended you."

"But what of the lives we take on the sea? For riches and treasure? How will you justify those deaths?" Clarke held the gaze of the pirate captain.

"I do not justify them." Lexa slumped down a little. "I grieve for them every day. But when you live in a world such as this one, you do not only want to survive…because you have been surviving since day one. You want to live. Don't we deserve that, Clarke?"

Clarke wrapped her hands around Lexa's. She understood. Lexa and her crew didn't grow up being spoon-fed sugar and molasses on a vast plantation, surrounded by fine things like she did. They had to struggle to make a better life for themselves. That was the world they lived in. "I understand. You do deserve to live Lexa, and not just survive. I am just…angry with myself. For being so sheltered, so ignorant. We do deserve better."

Lexa leaned forward and kissed Clarke softly. She slid her hands around her neck and threaded her fingers through Clarke's hair. Her long eyelashes left little butterfly kisses on the blonde's cheeks. Clarke smiled against Lexa's lips. This was living. She pulled away suddenly, remembering the things she wanted to ask Lexa. The captain pouted at the loss of contact.

"What does _ai niron_ and _ai gona_ mean?" Lexa blushed a little.

"Um, _ai niron_ is _my love_ , and _ai gona_ means _my warrior_. It's an old language…the _Seikru_ and the _Trikru_ learned it from a native American tribe when we visited the colonies once." Clarke almost squealed in happiness, but just hugged Lexa fiercely instead.

Lexa squeezed her hand. "C'mon, let's go back to the ship before I sober up completely."

"I can sleep with you, right?" Clarke asked. It was the most innocent question in the world, until it wasn't. Lexa looked like an owl, all huge eyes and ruffled feathers. She tried to speak, but only ended up letting out a squeak. She promptly clapped her hands over her mouth, blushing pink. Clarke laughed, blushing a little herself. "Actual sleep Lexa, not-"

"Yeah. Yeah I know, what you meant…" she nodded her head quickly. "I mean I wasn't…I was just assuming…well, not _assuming_ ….I…damnit, let's just go, okay?" Lexa grabbed a guffawing Clarke's hand and fumbled her way through the tavern and out the door.

They strolled down the wharf. Despite the late hour, the port was still bustling with activity. Lanterns were placed on every corner and in every doorway, lighting up the night. Sailors rolled barrels of goods into alleyways, and urchins played hide-and-seek between the boxes and crates on the dock. Clarke was completely content as she held her captain's hand and just walked. She turned to look at Lexa, meeting her sea green eyes.

Lexa smirked at her. "Hey Clarke, do you have a map?"

"What?" Clarke's eyebrows pushed down in confusion.

"Because I keep getting lost in your eyes." Lexa grinned, shameless.

"I _will_ throw you into the water Lexa!" Clarke cracked a smile, shaking her head. "You really aren't threatening at all when you spout cheesy pick-up lines and turn into a puppy when you drink."

"A puppy?" Lexa looked sideways at the blonde.

"Yeah, your eyes get all huge and cute, and your lips get all pouty, and you raise your eyebrows and look at me a certain way and I just kinda melt…" Clarke trailed off, a profound blush rising to her cheeks. This night was getting a little out of hand…if she didn't shut her mouth soon, she would be spouting love shanties to the pirate in no time at all. The pirate in question beamed at her as they continued walking.

Lexa suddenly gasped. "Look Clarke, chocolate!" She practically skipped over to the little cart tucked into a bright nook, tugging Clarke along with her. 'One of each, please." She deposited a little bag of coins on the vendor's counter and received three mini cakes in return.

Clarke's heart gave a pang of grief as the little cakes sparked the memory of Costia. "Clarke, have you ever tried these?" Lexa pulled up short as she took in the blonde's expression. She gently tucked away the cakes and took Clarke's hands in her own. "What are you thinking of?" She brushed the back of her hand across Clarke's cheek.

"The last time I had chocolate I was sitting at Cage's dining room table…the same day I ran." Her expression was dark, the darkest it had been in a long time. Lexa pulled her in close and pressed a firm kiss to her forehead.

"Maybe…maybe it's time to replace it with a new memory. A happier one. I know you lost a lot to this man, Clarke. I promise…I swear that I will do everything to keep you safe from him." The thought of Cage, most likely waiting a few miles offshore for them, had tears streaming down Clarke's face and her body collapsing in defeat. Lexa bit her lip and slung Clarke into her arms bridal-style. She carried her back down the wharf and up the gangplank of the _Seikru_ , waving off the watchman.

She kicked open the door to her quarters and attempted to lay the sniffling blonde on the furs of her bed. But Clarke clutched at the lapels of her jacket fiercely. "No. Stay." Lexa swung her legs onto the bed and wrapped her arms firmly around Clarke. The blonde snuggled into her, inhaling deeply. She appreciated the pirate captain so much, for taking care of her in such a moment of weakness. This was home. This was comforting. This was love.

"I love you, Lexa. I love you. I love you a lot." she murmured. Eventually her breaths were soft and steady, a peaceful sleep overtaking her body.

Lexa stayed awake late into the night, her heart _soaring_ as she repeated Clarke's words over and over again in her head.

 _I love you I love you I love you._


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Of Clarke and Lexa

 **Warning for some physical abuse in this chapter.**

 **Author's Note: THAT'S RIGHT SUCKAS IT AIN'T OVER! Do not forgive me for making y'all wait so long. Do not ever forgive me. I am a terrible human being.**

 **Lexa's POV**

Lexa's eyes popped open when she heard the pistol cock next to her head.

"Up." A leering voice commanded. She obediently untangled herself from Clarke and slid off the bed. She turned to face the unknown pirate, and raised her hands in surrender. Clarke sat up blearily, rubbing her eyes.

"Lexa? What-RRAAGH!" Another pirate grabbed Clarke by her hair and dragged her off the bed. Lexa snarled and moved to leap on him, but she halted abruptly when the one guarding her jammed the barrel of his gun into her ribs.

"What is the meaning of this? Who are you?" Her eyes flashed in anger.

"Shut up!" The man yanked Lexa's arms behind her back, twisting a rope around them, and prodded Lexa towards the door with his gun. The other hauled Clarke onto her feet and placed his gun against the back of her head, shoving her forward. She hissed in pain and looked at Lexa in terror.

The captain desperately tried to convey with her eyes that she would protect Clarke. The pirates shoved them out of the cabin. Lexa closed her eyes against the blinding sunlight as she stumbled out onto the deck. It would have been a beautiful, refreshing morning any other day, with the waves bouncing the sun's rays all around and the sea breeze making the flags snap back and forth. But it wasn't.

Because her entire crew was tied up, on their knees on either side of the boat, with pistols leveled at each of their heads. "No…" she breathed, as panic flooded up in her chest.

"Ah, the esteemed pirate Lexa finally graces us with her presence!" A man Lexa had never seen before sauntered up to her, his arms spread wide and welcoming. On the outside, he was extremely clean cut, even handsome. But she could see the dark madness in his hollow eyes, the killing intent. This man was very, very dangerous.

"….Who are you? Why have you imprisoned my crew?" Lexa said warily.

"I care nothing for you filthy pirates. I've merely come to collect my soon-to-be bride. Ah, and there she is! Clarke, my lovely fiancée, how have you been?"

Lexa flinched at his every word and desperately craned her head around to see Clarke. She stood a slight way behind her, eyes round with fear. Lexa watched in horror as the man slapped her hard across the face. The captain strained against her bonds, itching to run him through with her sword. This man…..was Cage.

"Hey bastard, leave her alo-" _**CCRAKK!**_

"Don't talk to me that way, filthy pirate whore. You don't deserve to speak at all." Lexa gritted her teeth, her face stinging from the brutal backhand. "As for you, Ms. Griffin, you are coming back to the plantation with me." He leaned in close to the blonde. "I will not be made a fool of again. And if you try anything…." Lexa suddenly found herself staring down the barrel of a pistol. "..your precious pirate friends will die, right now."

"Don't….don't hurt her."

Lexa fought back tears as she heard Clarke's broken voice.

"I'll go. Just don't hurt them." Clarke held her head high. Her eyes were dull.

"Good girl. You're pirate friends will be turned over to Pike here. He will decide their fate." Cage smiled hugely, his sharp teeth glinting maliciously. Clarke's eyes widened.

"No! No you can't! She'll be executed, they'll all be executed!" She struggled and screamed. Cage's pirates held her back, laughing. "Cage! Please don't!"

"Put her on the ship. They're all yours, Pike." He accepted a heavy bag of coins from the dark privateer.

"Thank you for your assistance, sir." Pike's deep murmur barely reached Lexa's ears, but she could hear him loud and clear when he boomed out from the middle of the deck: "You will all be confined to the brig for the entirety of the voyage. You will receive half rations. Any attempt or plot of escape will result in immediate death. Your ships will be searched and burned. Your weapons will not be returned to you. Any attempt to make or take a weapon will result in immediate death."

Lexa felt like crying. Some of her sailors were, silent tears trekking down their cheeks. Indra, Octavia, Raven, and Anya were surrounded by ten or more of Pike's men. Their faces were bloodied and bruised; they must have fought back. Pike walked up to her and folded his hands behind his back. "We have been hunting you for a long time, Captain Lexa. But it's over now." He jerked his head at the man restraining her. "Put them all belowdecks on our ship."

Lexa was pushed onto her knees next to Indra.

"Indra, what happened?!" she whispered fiercely to her fellow captain."

"They came in the night. We were wrong about them not wanting to come near a pirate port. We were set upon before we even knew what was happening, Lexa!" Indra whispered distressedly.

"You fought." Lexa stated.

"Of course. It didn't make much of a difference, obviously." Indra looked down at the deck.

"We aren't getting out of this one, are we Captain?" Octavia, her face covered in dirt and blood, looked up at Lexa. The Captain's heart lurched.

" _Lexa! Lexa!_ " Lexa jerked to the side to see Clarke being dragged onto a merchant ship that was obviously Cage's. Clarke was screaming her name, crying. Lexa's heart twisted.

Cage's voice echoed across the water as he grabbed the blonde by the throat and tossed her to the deck like a ragdoll. "Be quiet, little tramp!"

Lexa's swords hadn't been taken from her yet. She flexed her wrists, loosening her bonds a smidge.

Clarke's cries still echoed across the water.

Lexa began to see red.

 **Clarke's POV**

It only took them a few days to sail back to her father's plantation. No wonder Cage had caught up to them so easily; he used slaves. And he worked them to the bone.

Clarke had been confined to the captain's cabin the whole time. It was luxurious, to say the least, but she resented every fancy rug and gilded candlestick. All she did was pace and cry. She didn't eat, and she barely slept. And when she wasn't thinking about her eminent doom, she was thinking about Lexa. The pirate captain was so ruthless, yet so kind and soft. She had never met anyone like her…and she had never missed anyone so much. And what about her mother, and Raven, and Octavia? Or Anya and Lincoln and Finn? They were all going to die.

"And….it's my fault…" Clarke sobbed and collapsed onto her knees for the third time that day. Footsteps approaching the door made her scramble back onto her feet and quickly wipe her eyes, but they passed by and faded away. At least Cage hadn't disturbed her yet. She cringed at the thought of him, lightly touching the bruise on her cheekbone. But Lexa had received worse than her; she balled her fists and forced her temper into check as she remembered her captain being backhanded.

She may be terrified of Cage, but after seeing her new family awaiting execution, she also really wanted to hurl him off a cliff. _Wow…when did that happen?_ Of course, it was Lexa. Spending time with her had made Clarke stronger. She didn't have to be afraid anymore. Even with Lexa gone…she could fight.

 _ **Knock knock!**_

Clarke jumped at the sudden rapping on the door.

"We've arrived, m'lady. Lord Wallace has requested your presence."

"You can tell Cage to go float himself. I'm not getting off this ship." Clarke snarled. The door opened suddenly, and in walked the man himself.

"Clarke. Get off the boat and I won't kill your dead little slave friend's family." He stood with his hands folded behind his back, smirking subtly.

"Damn you to hell, Cage Wallace…" Rage welled up inside her at the mention of Costia. She gritted her teeth and physically restrained herself from bashing his face in. There was a time and a place for everything.

"Where do you think I come from?" He hissed at her as she stalked past him and onto the deck. She inhaled the breeze as it washed over her, but it did nothing. It was nothing. It was not the smell of home; it was just air, moving in and out of her lungs. Cage roughly took her arm and forced her down the gangplank.

"Let me go, that hurts!" Clarke yanked at the crushing grip he had on her arm, to no avail. He dragged her up the beach, along the same trail she had raced down so many nights ago. The wind and sand had already erased all signs of the horror that took place there. She was mercilessly shoved up the front porch and into his mansion. Clarke gagged on the stifling air inside. All the windows were shut, and the lack of airflow made the heat unbearable.

Cage released her. "Now you listen here, girl. You will take off these nasty clothes and put on a dress befitting a proper young lady. You will not scream or whine or try to fight. You will sit, and you will be silent, and you will the prettiest and most submissive bride to ever walk the earth."

She spat in his face.

"Come here!" With a vicious snarl, Cage grabbed her and dragged her to the window. "You see them?" Costia's family were on their knees in a line, bound and blindfolded just outside the house. "One word from me and they die. One step out of line from you, and I give the word. Get it?" Cage straightened as two maids quietly stepped into the hall, heads bowed. "Take her to her room." He reached down and traced his finger along Clarke's jaw. She jerked back violently and shuddered, her teeth bared in hate.

"I look forward to seeing you at the alter tomorrow." He laughed and sauntered away.

Clarke gripped her hair in her hands and began pacing a trail into the cobblestone floor. "Where's Dante Wallace?!" She whirled on the maid. Maybe the wise old father could stop the madness of his son, and see sense.

"Mr. Wallace died not three weeks ago, ma'am."

"Died?" Clarke abruptly halted, stunned. "But he was in perfect health! He had years left. How did he die? Tell me!" She grabbed the maid by her shoulders.

"Mr. Cage Wallace ordered us not to speak of it, ma'am. I apologize."

"UGH!"

"Please ma'am, follow me upstairs to your room so you can bathe and dress."

Clarke slumped up the stairs after the maid. She stepped into the living chambers she had only spent a few minutes in, on the night of her escape. Her ankle twinged when she looked at the window she had dropped from.

"I'll draw your bath for-"

"No. I'll get ready in the morning. Please just leave me in peace." The blonde faced away from the servant girl. She wanted to ask her name, wanted to tell her to stop calling her 'ma'am', wanted to free her from Cage's terrible hold. But she couldn't…. not when she was trapped herself. The girl bowed quickly and left, leaving Clarke alone in the strange room.

"Cotton…" Clarke ran her hand over the crisp white bedspread. An image of warm dark furs and soft golden skin flashed behind her eyes, and she swore she smelled dark chocolate for a split second.

"Lexa…I'm sorry, so sorry…." Tears welled up in her eyes. She dropped to the floor next to the bed and wrapped her arms around her torso. "I miss you, Lexa, I love you…. please, I'm so sorry, please come save me…" Clarke rocked back and forth slightly, letting the tears spill over her eyes and stream down her cheeks. She sobbed and quickly put a hand over her mouth. Don't show weakness. Lexa wasn't coming to save her. The captain was already dead. She was on her own once more. But that didn't mean she couldn't still wring Cage's neck in revenge. Her tears dried up quickly, and instead of sadness she shook with rage. She would focus on killing Cage Wallace. She wouldn't…. wouldn't think about Lexa. Not yet. She would kill Cage and then she would hunt down Pike and kill him too, him and his whole crew. Then maybe she could grieve. Exhaustion soon overcame her, and Clarke fell asleep on the warm wood floor as the sun sunk below the waves.

She clutched Lexa's engraved flask in her hands.

 **Lexa's POV**

Red. Red like blood. Like a rose. Red like Clarke's cheeks when she had picked up that drawing. Lexa flexed hard against her bonds once more. She slid the rings from her fingers, and gently set them on the deck behind her, not making a sound. She peeked at Indra out of the corner of her eye, and nodded ever so slightly. Indra passed along her message, blinks and nods and shuffles rippling through her crew like a wave. She slid her wrists, one before the other, out of the ropes, but still held them together behind her back. Her eyes tracked Pike as he stalked across the deck. The privateer's sailors were taking her people belowdecks, one after the other. She would wait until half of them were left. Pike's men had pistols, but her crew outnumbered them two to one.

Wait for the right moment.

Patience.

She felt the breath pass through her, in and out. The steady breathing of her people around her.

Wait….wait.

The man guarding her and Indra turned away from her, to his comrade. "Can't wait for this to be over, can you? We've been working nonstop for days. I'm itchin' for a pint…" Lexa's eyes darted around, quick as a whip. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven men relaxed _just a bit_ …

 _Wait…_

Pike went into his cabin and shut the door.

 _Wait for it…_

The sailor behind her was still talking. "…..in the next port. Need to get off this bloody boat, ay mate? Get some real…." She stood, silently and suddenly, and slid her sword across his throat. _Bloody indeed._

She spun forward, beheading his friend before he could utter a syllable. All over the deck, her crew shot to their feet and tackled their captors before they could raise their pistols, bound hands be damned. They rammed with their shoulders and butted with their heads. Octavia cackled over her captor, choking him with a knee to the throat. Abby was freeing pirates with her scalpel. Lexa was a whirlwind of steel; each deathblow she dealt as if it were Cage himself she was killing. Blood stained her swords a ruby red and streaked across her face. She roared her fury, and her crew roared with her.

She gave Pike to the _Trikru_. They deserved it after running for months. She heard him screaming across the water as they gave him a cut for every day he pursued them. She almost pitied the man.

Almost.

Lexa sat in her chambers and wiped the blood from her swords. She didn't want to think back on that rage-fueled rampage. So many lives lost…and the ones who got down on their knees and begged didn't even live. She had murdered every single one, except Pike.

She tossed away the bloodied rag and sheathed her swords. She flopped back onto the furs of her bed and snuggled into them. Clarke…. they still smelled like her. Would Clarke hate her when she found out what Lexa had done? Would she shun her and blame her? Lexa squeezed her eyes closed and clutched the furs. She could see it already….the beautiful blonde stepping back and lifting her lip in disgust, hating her, loathing her….

 _I understand. We do deserve better._

And the horrible dream of the hateful Clarke was gone, and now her love was looking at her with compassion and understanding, and _love_. That's right. Clarke loved her.

Lexa lurched off the bed and donned her effects. She slammed open the door to her cabin, and her heels clicked against the wood of the deck. She strutted up to Anya at the wheel.

"You have the coordinates Pike gave us?" she looked confidently at her second.

"Of course, Captain." Anya eyed her warily.

"Then we have our heading. I want her at full sail until we reach the plantation."

"Aye aye, captain."

 _I'm coming, Clarke._

 **Clarke's POV**

"Get up!"

Clarke jerked awake as a rough hand grabbed her and hauled her off the floor. " _GET AWAY FROM ME!_ " she roared. She swung her fists wildly, searching for a target in the darkness. Her right hook connected with flesh, and she heard a muffled "oof" in the pitch black.

The dark shape she had hit hurled itself at her, knocking her to the ground. It wrapped one of its hands around her throat and pressed the other against her mouth.

" _Stay down and shut up!_ " Clarke recognized Cage's voice. She squirmed frantically, trying to dislodge him. The feeling of his hands revolted her. The distant, deep-throated scream of a man only made her fight harder. She heard glass shattering, and flickers of torch light from the ground level brushed the bottom of her window. The faint light reflected off Cage's eyes. He looked…. terrified. "Listen, you idiot girl, if you scream we both die!" He let go of her throat and pulled a pistol from his belt, tapping the barrel against her temple. "See this?" he chuckled. "Same gun that killed the slave girl. It'll take your head too if you try to run. I'll need your father's money to rebuild my plantation after these heathens have ransacked it…which means I'll need you, for a while at least. Get it?"

"Mmmmppphf!" Clarke wanted to smash her head into his nose. Pretentious bastard…she would take him down with her. She shoved her chin up and bit down hard on his hand.

"Aaauugh!" he yelled in pain and jerked his hand away.

"HEEEEEYYYY WE'RE UP HERE, HEEE-" Fireworks of pain exploded on the side of her head. She blinked away the sparkles in her vision, but her groan was cut off by a gag being shoved between her teeth and tied around her head.

"That should shut you up." Cage bound her hands as well, then hauled her to her feet. He pointed the pistol at her forehead, cradling his mangled hand against his chest. The blood from her bite stained his white suit. He waved the pistol towards the door. "Move." Clarke reluctantly shuffled out the door and down the darkened stairway, followed closely by Cage. More screams echoed through the house, along with gunshots and the occasional clash of steel on steel. _The plantation's being ransacked? By who?_

"Go through the kitchen and out the back. We'll head down to the beach and make a break for it." Cage moved ahead of her and peeked around the corner of the stairwell. She stared at him.

 _He killed Lexa_. Her lips lifted in a silent snarl.

"Okay, lets go!" He grabbed her arm and pulled her hastily across the main hall towards the kitchens. The sound of screams grew louder, and Clarke thought she heard maniacal laughter accompanying it. The front door hung off its hinges, and Clarke glimpsed the whole crop of sugar blazing fiercely, fingers of hungry flame stretching out toward the night sky. She could feel the heat from here. Cage stopped short, and Clarke turned to see two figures emerge from the kitchen.

Her eyes widened. _Octavia! Lincoln!_ _**They were alive!**_ _Then….Lexa was alive too!_ The pirates continued walking, oblivious to the blonde and her captor. Clarke's joy was cut short as she heard the click of Cage's pistol. _Oh hell no._ She screeched through her gag and rammed into him as he squeezed the trigger. The shot put a hole through the ceiling, and the two pirates spun around in surprise.

"Clarke!" Octavia rushed to her aid. Cage scrambled up and pointed his pistol at the two girls.

"Don't move, pirate scum!" he screeched, spittle flying from his lips. "She's mi- _ **WAAAAAAGGGGH!**_ " Lincoln brought his sword down on Cage's arm with a roar, severing his hand completely. Cage dropped to his knees, clutching the stump of his arm with his bitten hand.

"Clarke! Thank god we found you. Are you okay?" Octavia untied the gag and cut her bonds.

"Yes, I'm fine! Lexa! Where's Lexa? Is she…" Clarke stood and looked around wildly.

"Its okay! Lexa is fine." Octavia smiled. "I'll take you to her, but we have to be careful. We are still trying to take out groups of Cage's men." She turned to the man in question and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, hoisting him up. "Speaking of which, you're coming with us." She hissed into his face. "The Captain would like a _word_ with you." Cage whimpered, still holding his useless appendages against his chest. Lincoln urged him forward with the tip of his sword. Clarke retrieved Cage's pistol, and the four of them stepped through the destroyed entrance and out into the night.

Clarke shielded her face from the intense heat of the blazing sugar field. Bleeding bodies littered the grounds of the plantation; Clarke was horrified to realize that many of them were slaves to the plantation.

"They fought with us." Octavia squeezed Clarke's shoulder. "They fought for their families and their freedom."

Firelight flickered across Clarke's face. "I know." They continued walking, puffs of dust from their steps highlighted by the flames. Clarke jumped at every shadow, thinking one of Cage's cronies would come bursting out of the undergrowth at any second. As they hurried down the dirt path to the beach, the sounds of battle escalated.. Clarke broke into a run.

"Clarke wait!" The blonde sprinted down the path. She could hear them now, calling out to one another; Lexa's crew, her friends! She listened for that one voice, but the pounding of her pulse in her ears muffled everything. She finally burst from the tree line, gasping for air. Her blue eyes darted around wildly, searching for…. there. Her heart leapt, so high she felt it would burst from her chest.

"Lexa!" she cried out, blinking back tears. The captain did a one-eighty, smiling hugely.

"Clarke!" Lexa quickly turned back, however, barely blocking an attack from a man Clarke recognized as the plantation overseer. The pirate crew and Cage's men were engaged in a heated battle upon the sand, steel cutlasses flashing in the moonlight. Clarke saw Raven tossing some sort of bomb into a large group of enemies, Abby guarding her back. She witnessed Anya going on a rampage, gutting man after man with a wicked pair of knives. The blonde launched herself down the beach towards Lexa, who was desperately trying to hold off the burly overseer. She pulled out Cage's pistol and put a round into his arm, allowing Lexa to knock the sword from his grip and finish him.

Clarke tossed aside the pistol and threw herself at Lexa. She squeezed her tightly, too tightly, enveloped in the warmth and safety of her captain's arms. She drew in a deep shuddering breath, choking back sobs of relief.

" _Ai gona_ …" Lexa whispered, running her fingers through the blonde locks. Clarke laughed, tears spilling over her eyes, and hugged her tighter.

 **Lexa's POV**

 _Clarke. Clarke, Clarke, Clarke!_ The pirate captain crushed the blonde into her, savoring the solid feel of Clarke in her arms, safe and happy.

"I th-thought you were d-d-dead…" she heard the blonde hiccup. She only hugged her tighter.

"Even if I had died, I would have come back for you. I will never let you go." The battle slowly died around her. The untrained followers of Cage were no match for her pirates, and they were finished off quick enough. She released Clarke from her death grip, but still held her close, planting a kiss atop her head.

"Captain." Octavia and Lincoln approached her. They shoved a man with a missing hand to his knees in front of her.

"Cage Wallace." She pulled Clarke behind her, shielding her with an arm. The blonde was silent.

"P-p-please d-don't kill me…" Cage moaned.

"Have you lost all dignity? Where is the murderer who was so confident of his victory a few days ago?" She crouched in the sand in front of him. "Did you really, truly think that _I_ could be beaten? That _I_ could be killed?" He flinched away as she hissed. "That you could just _take_ her?"

"What shall we do with him Captain?" Octavia nudged his pitiful form with her boot, as if he was already a dead man. Lexa stood. She turned to the blonde behind her, who was looking sadly at something near the trees. Lexa followed her gaze to see a family staring at Cage specifically. Their dark eyes glinted with rage and hatred. From the looks of it they had been enslaved on this plantation. No longer of course; she had seen to that. _Oh._ Costia's family. Lexa smiled grimly, and nodded at the matron, who inclined her head in return. "Leave him to the wolves. We're going." She guided Clarke to the longboats, and her crew followed. She did not look back as they rowed out past the surf, and neither did the blonde.

But she took pleasure in his screams as they echoed over the ocean.

Lexa cradled Clarke in her arms as Lincoln heaved at the oars. She ran her fingers again and again through her blonde tresses, marveling at how it was eternally silky. The steady movement of Clarke's breathing relaxed her immensely. She brushed the hair from Clarke's face. "Are you okay?" she stared at her intensely. Clarke looked up at her and nodded tiredly. Lexa smiled and captured her lips in a chaste kiss. The boat clunked dully against the side of the _Seikru_. The captain sent Clarke up the ladder first and followed close behind. The crew was already taking turns hugging Clarke by the time she hoisted herself over the railing.

"Alright, alright, give her some space." She put her arm around Clarke's shoulders. A quiet chant of "Hypocrite, hypocrite…" made her shoot a glare over her shoulder at the master gunner. Raven gave her an innocent look.

"We'll have plenty to celebrate in the morning, but for now, get some rest." Lexa ordered. The crewmembers ambled off to their hammocks below decks, while she pulled Clarke into her cabin. She shut the door and locked it, tossing the key aside. The blonde artist fidgeted in the middle of the room.

"Clarke, please, sleep. I know you're tired." She pushed Clarke to the fur-covered bed.

"No. I'm not that tired really. I just… can't believe its over. I mean, I thought he would hunt me for the rest of my life, so now I don't really know what to feel. What am I supposed to do now?"

Lexa slid her arms around the blonde's waist. "Travel the world with me. Become the two greatest pirates to sail the seas, drink lots of rum, get ourselves an island full of treasure and retire happily together." Clarke laughed.

"That… sounds really nice." she said. "Especially the rum part." Lexa threw her head back and laughed loudly. She tilted Clarke's chin up and kissed her deeply, for just a moment.

"Then that's what we'll do."

* _End_ *

 **Author's Note: Thank you guys for reading this crappy story. I would soooo appreciate feedback on my writing and what I need to work on! Once again, I'm sorry for the year long wait, but hey it'll be a nice surprise for you guys that followed the story**

 **I would love ideas for another fic! I will take requests:D**


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